Living Stone
by TresMaxwell
Summary: The mission was routine: check out a haunting and break in the new agent, but nothing is ever simple at the BPRD. Things are waking up in England that haven't been seen since the dawn of man. Rated M for later chapters. Hellboy/John Complete
1. The Crypt

So I feel like I should explain this one before I start the story proper. This is the comic-verse. After the Somewhere Between trilogy, I couldn't go back to the Hellboy and John I knew and loved because I felt like I was taking them backwards through a relationship that took years to develop to what it was. I tried, trust me. It didn't work.

I needed to look at a new version of them if I was going to write, so I turned to the comics. The comics are VERY different from the movie. As much fun as snarky, childish movie HB is, comic HB is calm, smart, and calculating until he gets into a fight. Once he's fighting, a little more of Ron Perlman's Hellboy comes out. I get that some of my existing fans might not have read the comics, so I'm going to give you a quick overview. If you have read the comics (both Hellboy and BPRD) then just skip to the story. It starts at the 'X's. For those of you who have read them, this takes place before Hellboy leaves the BPRD.

Differences include:

Abe is NOT a psychic, he's just another agent. He uses a gun and has an attitude that is nonexistent in the movie. He can also spend as much time out of water as he wants; he has no problem breathing air.

Liz was changed a lot for the movie. In the comics, Liz is still disturbed by her own abilities, but she's never spent time in an asylum. She's very strong once you get past the first issue or two. The biggest difference is that HB is not interested in her. When she came to the bureau as a child, he was already a full-grown man. At best, he sees her as a little sister. She and Abe on the other hand… I won't go into that here.

Johann. Ah, Johann. Ignoring the absolutely horrible representation of him in the second movie, I really love Johann. He is a roaming spirit that is stored in a sealed suit with a glass helmet (much more streamline than the clunking monstrosity they put him in during HB 2). Johann can leave the suit to touch the supernatural world and get a feel for things and commune with dead spirits.

The BPRD itself is quite different. Abe, Liz, and Hellboy are not captives of the bureau, they just work there. The world knows about them (except the bureau hasn't set up Abe's intro to society, so he still has to hide) and they're treated with respect by the agents of the bureau. The bureau also hires various kinds of people to assist agents in their missions. The most human people in the comics are typically psychics. They go on missions to help HB and Abe and the others to understand what they're fighting, feeding them information about the monsters' thoughts, emotions, and/or motives and to tell them about spirit activity because Johann can't be on every mission with every agent. The remaining cast of characters the movies didn't even touch will be explained and introduced in the story as if they were new to you.

So that just leaves John. Naturally, John is not from the comics but I really wanted to use him in this story because HB/John is my reason for writing this stuff. I didn't want his introduction to the bureau to be anything close to what it was in the movie since HB is not a child and he's a respected agent. Please keep that in mind. John is definitely OOC because I've essentially reinvented him to bring him into HB's comic world. Hopefully, you'll enjoy the nuances between the two universes.

And now that I've written a page long introduction, on to the story!

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Hellboy stood in front of the BPRD headquarters in Fairfield, Connecticut, smoking a cigarette and waiting. The chilled winter air misted as he breathed out a lungful of smoke. Cold didn't bother him. Though most of the other agents tried to sneak their smoke breaks inside somewhere when it was this cold, Hellboy would go out just for the quiet. Now, he was outside purely so he could watch the road.

It was almost six-o-clock in the afternoon. The changed of shifts occurred around him quietly. Agents who'd been on the base all morning were on their way out. Most said 'goodbye' or 'goodnight' to him as they passed by. The agents coming in for the night watch did much of the same, just switching their greetings to 'hello' and 'how's it going?'

The sky was melting into fiery hues as evening descended. Hellboy scowled at the crimson color the sun had taken on as it disappeared behind thick line of trees bordering the BPRD's property. Crimson was never a good omen. When the sun turned that color, it meant blood and death would come with the moon.

Hellboy took another drag on his cigarette, taking it all the way to the filter before he stubbed it out against his stone arm. As he flicked it in the trashcan, he addressed the woman coming up behind him, "He's late."

Kate Corrigan was one of the few people who took the demon's bluntness in stride. As long as she'd worked with him, she understood that Hellboy didn't like to waste time. He got down to business quickly, always had, always would.

"He'll be here," she answered easily, brushing some of her short blonde hair away from her face.

Kate was dressed in her office clothes: khaki pants, sneakers, and an oversized pink sweater that was threatening to fall off her slim shoulder though she was wearing another shirt beneath it. Hellboy didn't need to read the file she had in her hand to know that she wasn't going on the mission with him.

If Hellboy had to be saddled with another agent, Kate was a decent choice. She made astute observations, stayed out from underfoot, was smart and quick with her gun. Though she'd started with the bureau as a folklore expert, she had become an excellent field agent. She was a far cry from Liz or Abe, but lead agents rarely worked together unless the case was too big to handle alone.

"Why did they stick him with me?" Hellboy asked, his annoyance more apparent in his twisting tail than it was in his tone.

Kate sighed and looked out at the staff parking lot, "It's not going to be that bad."

"He's not trained. I hope you picked out a cake-walk for us or he's going to get killed," Hellboy growled, holding out his flesh hand so she could drop the file into it.

She explained as he looked over the documents, "Non-malicious ghost sighting. A perfect starter for a psychic. The idea is to see what he can do before we spend the resources to train him."

Hellboy knew exactly why they handled things this way, but he'd seen it go wrong before. Inexperience was a killer.

Kate continued, "Manning's got some high hopes for this one, so he's going to want a detailed report when you get back."

Hellboy grunted in response, only half-listening. The photographs in the file were more interesting than being reminded for the millionth time that Manning wants paperwork. The man always wanted a mountain of paperwork; there was nothing new about it. Out of the dozen photos, only two of them had substantial evidence of spectral activity. The rest mostly seemed to be establishing shots of the English Cathedral where the ghost had been seen. He held a Polaroid closer to his face, examining a white smear that most people would assume was a lens flare. It was one of the better ghost photos he'd seen. If he squinted, he could almost make out the human figure.

"They disturb any graves lately? Move any old sarcophagi?" Hellboy asked, tossing all the photos back in the manila folder.

Chuckling, Kate responded with a query of her own, "Is it ever that easy?"

"Not when I have to take a psychic with me." Hellboy didn't need a watch to know that the newbie was almost an hour late. He'd always had a good internal clock. "He doesn't show up in the ten minutes, I'm leaving without him."

"No you're not," Kate stated and crossed her arms over her chest. "Because I think that's him now."

A taxi came up the driveway and parked in the loading/unloading half circle directly in front of the building. Hellboy and Kate were quiet as a young man slammed out of the back of the cab with suitcase in hand and went around to the driver. He was so young that Hellboy thought 'man' really wasn't the right term for him. 'Boy' would be much closer to the truth. It might've just been his age saying that. After forty years working for the BPRD, Hellboy thought that the new agents they brought in seemed younger and younger with each year that passed.

Shouting floated over the cab, "I'm not paying for the hour you spent driving around the wrong part of Connecticut!"

The answer was too muffled for Hellboy to understand, but he could guess that the driver said something unpleasant by the way the boy's expression changed. For a shred of a second, the boy's mouth fell open and then his anger was back.

"It is not my fault that you assumed incorrectly. I gave you the full address."

Hellboy slid a glance in Kate's direction, stating flatly, "Oh, he's a joy."

She gave him a smirk and a low-level glare, "And you're going to play nice or you'll be looking at a suspension. Manning made it very clear that he wants this kid to work for us."

"Great," Hellboy muttered and wished he had another cigarette. Not enough of a smoker to have his own pack, he'd bummed the one he had off of Liz. Usually, he preferred cigars, but when he was annoyed, he liked a stronger hit of nicotine.

Peering at the darkening sky, Hellboy tried not to think of how the wisps of clouds looked like clots in a vast pool of blood. He'd wasted enough time on this kid. Hellboy stepped off the curb and came around the back of the cab. Shoving a crumpled twenty-dollar bill at the driver, he took his new charge by the arm. It probably wasn't enough, but the driver sped off after taking one look at Hellboy. Even after the bureau had gone to such great lengths to make sure Hellboy was represented in a positive way by the media, some people still had that kind of reaction. Hellboy practically dragged the psychic back to Kate, ignoring the boy's complaints.

When they stopped, the boy yanked his arm out of Hellboy's hold and indignantly stated, "It's not my fault the driver didn't know where Fairfield was, so don't take it out on me. And I'm not a child, I'm twenty-two." He straightened his cream-colored sheepskin coat and turned his attention to Kate, "You're Dr. Corrigan." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," Kate said, holding out her hand. "You must be John Myers."

He shook her hand with a nod, "I am. I'm sorry I'm so late. Did you get my message?"

"I did. I tried to return your call, but it kept going straight to voicemail."

While John explained his spotty service, Hellboy eyed him. The first conclusion he came to was that John was too small. It wasn't as if the other psychics they hired were body builders or anything, but John was barely taller than Kate was and she was a tiny woman. Even under his winter clothes, his body had a delicate litheness to it that made Hellboy think he'd never make it in the bureau. Though psychics were taken on missions as sources of information, they still got in enough trouble that they needed to know how to fight.

The boy (at twenty-two, he was definitely still a boy to Hellboy) had perfectly groomed brown hair and eyes that seemed too old for his face. His features were smooth and slightly breath taking, so the deep, sorrowful gaze he had was very out of place. John's eyes looked as though they'd seen too many horrors. If he'd survived whatever made his eyes so cold, maybe he could endure in the bureau.

When those brown eyes fixed on him, Hellboy knew the boy was tougher than he looked. Keeping his thoughts carefully guarded against the psychic, Hellboy said, "The chopper is waiting."

Kate walked with them through the bureau, briefing John as they moved across the marble insignia on the floor, "Look at this like your entrance exam. Stick close to Hellboy and make sure that you listen to him. He'll keep you safe."

Hellboy walked a few steps ahead of them, so he couldn't see John's expression as the boy said dryly, "He seems so thrilled about babysitting me."

He didn't respond, but groaned inwardly. Some psychics were exclusively in tune with the metaphysical plane. John wasn't one of those. He was a mind reader, among other things. There wasn't much of a file on him yet, just the little that Manning had gathered during his research, but Hellboy had read enough about him to know that he was more powerful, if not more unpredictable, than any psychic they'd ever hired. No one was really certain what his limits were. On top of that, the boy was brilliant. He'd graduated from high school top in his class when he sixteen, though he quit college after his first year. Hellboy was prepared for all the pride and attitude that typically accompanied searing intelligence.

When Hellboy didn't make a comment either way, Kate consoled John, "He'll warm up to you." It was as much comfort as she was prepared to give him.

They stopped at a bank of elevators and Hellboy jabbed the call button. As they waited for one of the two elevators to come to the landing, he turned to Kate, "When Liz gets in from Cambodia, tell her that I put the Lexington artifact back in the vault. She'll be looking for it."

"Will do," the blonde said with a smile.

The lift arrived and Hellboy stepped inside, raising one brow at John as the boy stayed where he was. His knuckles where nearly white on the handle of his suitcase. Though Hellboy didn't have a psychic bone in his body, he could feel the boy's uncertainty. John hesitated long enough that the automatic doors started closing. Hellboy stuck his flesh hand out to stop them and hold them open.

"Come on, kid," Hellboy said without a hint of annoyance or impatience.

He could almost feel the boy prodding his thoughts as those dark, wounded eyes narrowed on him. Hellboy didn't like it when someone poked around in his head, but he'd gotten very good at hiding things he didn't want anyone to see. Knowing that John was just looking for some reassurance, he let some of his agitation ebb. There was no reason to stay angry when the mission didn't rely on them arriving at a specific time. The ghost would still be there.

Finally, John entered the elevator and Hellboy punched the button for the roof. As the door slid shut, Kate reminded him one last time, "Play nice, Hellboy."

"Do you run a lot of agents off?"

Hellboy glanced over at the boy, surprised by how straightforward he was, "No. But I don't work with a lot of other agents."

"Because you don't get along with them?"

"Because I don't like to play twenty questions," Hellboy growled, effectively putting an end to John's curiosity.

They made the rest of the ride in silence; the only sound was the growing throb of a helicopter's rotor. When the door opened, the muffled 'whump' of the blades became a deafening roar. Hellboy ducked slightly as he ran to the waiting Osprey, though the twin rotors were too high up to hit him. The massive gusts of wind the helicopter created wrenched at Hellboy's trench coat, making it billow and slap against his legs. He turned to find that John was right on his heels. Hellboy stepped back to let the psychic on first and then grabbed the handle to hoist himself into the belly of the aircraft. The moment they were on board, the helicopter lifted into the air.

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The helicopter left them outside of Wells, England, since there weren't any helipads within the small city. Though it was barely seven in the morning, the town was already bustling. A good number of commuters were headed out to bigger cities and even more were going to work within Wells. Shops and cafes were just opening for the day, employees freezing in the middle of morning duties to watch Hellboy walk through the streets. A stout man in an apron stepped outside to watch the famous investigator go by, his ruddy features dominated by a look of awe.

John had to trot to keep up with Hellboy's stride, but the beautiful, gothic architecture was distracting enough that he kept falling behind. He'd pause to crane his neck so he could see some gargoyle or towering building and look down to see that Hellboy had gotten far ahead of him. He sprinted to catch up with the demon and then the whole process started over. If Hellboy noticed, he didn't comment on it. Now and again, he would send a glance over his shoulder to make sure the boy was still there, but didn't bother him otherwise.

Hellboy stopped at the inn where the BPRD had gotten them rooms and John crashed into his back. Chuckling, Hellboy joked, "Some psychic."

The comment got him a seething look from John as the boy rubbed at his forehead, "Most people don't think about walking, they just do it. You could've said something."

"Go get our keys and drop your suitcase. If you're not too tired, I'd like to go up to the church."

"Yeah, okay," John mumbled and continued to rub at the sore spot on his head.

Hellboy was already feeling the jet lag kicking in and he was nearly immune to it, but, judging by the bruised-looking smudges beneath John's eyes, the kid didn't sleep much. After John had gone inside, Hellboy wandered to a nearby shop to get them both some coffee. The woman set down his order and stared at his horn stubs while he fished the appropriate currency out of his pocket to pay her. With both insulated cups clutched carefully in his right hand, he slapped a five-pound note on the counter and left without change. Resisting the urge to cuss under his breath, Hellboy went back to the inn.

John was standing at the door when he got there, looking around with a furrowed brow. The moment he spotted the coffee, his expression brightened and something that wanted to be a smile fought its way onto his face. He took the cup gratefully.

"It's just black," Hellboy said before John got a chance to drink it.

"It's perfect, thanks." Sticking one hand in his pocket, John sipped cautiously at the scalding coffee before asking, "So, which church is it? I've seen two so far."

Hellboy lifted one hand to point out at the bigger church that sat at the city's heart when he noticed a ragged, red scar on the boy's wrist. He hadn't been able to see it beneath the coat sleeve, but when John lifted the coffee cup to his mouth, the sleeve slid down just enough to reveal the edge of it.

John immediately picked up on his thoughts and lowered his arm to pull the sleeve into place, muttering, "Childhood accident."

The lie was obvious in the way John averted his gaze, but Hellboy left it alone, "We're headed in to Wells Church. The bishop there is the one who called us."

The town was small and the church was only a few blocks away. Hellboy started off with his brisk pace, but slowed to more of a saunter so John wouldn't have to run. The leisurely stroll gave them time to finish their coffee. Hellboy doubted they would be allowed to bring it into the church anyway.

As they walked, John kept looking in Hellboy's direction. Everywhere he went, he got stared at, so he was used to it… well, almost used to it. It still irritated him. The boy didn't really seem to stare at the things that everyone else stared at. His gaze wasn't stuck to his stone hand, or the tail that swung lazily out of the slit in the back of his trench coat, or to the remnants of his horns that he filed. John seemed content to study his face. Hellboy suspected that he was looking at his eyes. They were solid yellow, with no pupil or iris to break them up. Very few people could look him in the eye without fidgeting.

With a deep sigh, Hellboy said, "Let's get this over with. What do you want to ask about?"

John completely surprised him with his question, "Where did you learn how to guard your thoughts like that? I don't get much of anything from you."

Hellboy's gait stuttered a little as he turned to the boy. He suspected John was trying to cover up the fact that he was gawking, but his question and expression were too genuine. Finally, Hellboy said, "You work with as many psychics as I do and you'll learn how to keep things private."

"Would you teach me?"

"Yeah," Hellboy answered even as he wondered what kind of secrets the kid had to keep.

They left the cobblestone street and cut across the vast lawn that surrounded the church. The stone cathedral rose in front of them, hundreds of statues watching their arrival from alcoves carved into the front of the building. Their weather worn faces seemed to disapprove of Hellboy's presence. He wasn't welcome at many churches, by the local clergy or the faithful, but this was one of the first churches where it felt like the building was scowling at him.

He didn't have enough fingers and toes to count how many times he'd been screamed out of a church by a priest or minister. Though his experience with Christian paranormal events was unmatched, the BPRD would often have to send out a replacement agent for jobs like this. Hellboy was confident that this case would be different, since the bishop had asked for him personally.

The moment they stepped inside, John got rigid. Hellboy cast his gaze around the lofty sanctuary, past the white scissor arches and the empty choir bays. Nothing moved. It was too early for the tourists and too late for the faithful that prayed before they had to start their day. The church was empty.

Hellboy carefully watched the boy's face for signs of possession, which happened to their psychics far too frequently for his liking, but John's expression was just tense. The boy's brows furrowed sharply, putting more of a shadow over his normally dark eyes, and his lips pressed into a thin, white line.

"You've got to talk to me. Tell me what you're getting," Hellboy said as he moved out into the isle between the pews. He settled his flesh hand over a pouch of salt in his pocket just in case the spirit was more violent than the bureau realized. That happened a lot.

John followed him closely, close enough that Hellboy considered calling the boy his shadow. "It's focus is directed on me."

"Is it pissed off?"

"No," John shook his head. "It's… no, _his_ attention is not wrathful. I feel an overwhelming desperation. He needs something."

Some of the tension left Hellboy's shoulders and he withdrew his hand from the salt. Kate really did pick out a good case for them. A ghost that needed something was just restless; it wasn't going to hurt anyone. They could still be frightening to the average person, just not dangerous.

"Alright. Walk around and check things out, I'm going to find the bishop."

Fear flickered through John's features, "Shouldn't I stay with you?"

"Nah. The spirit you just described wouldn't attack the mice in the walls. I'll be back in a minute."

He wanted to be more reassuring since the kid still looked a little freaked, but he couldn't hold his hand through every part of an investigation. If John didn't learn to stand on his own, the bureau would chew him up and spit him out. The burnout rate of agents was extremely high in paranormal work, especially in psychics. They get exposed to so much supernatural hate and rage and fear, channeling it through their open minds to feed to the field agent they're with, that more than eighty percent have a break down within the first year.

Hellboy walked down one of the halls that branched off of the main chapel, looking for someone who could take him to the bishop. The first person to see him was a young altar boy that was sorting a pile of hymnals and putting them on a shelf. Hellboy cringed internally, expecting the child to scream and run, but a giant smile lit up his face instead.

"Oi! You're Hellboy!"

Hellboy nodded, "Yeah, Bishop Dunn called me."

"This way, sir," the child chirped, hopping off his stool.

He darted down the hall, his freckled face casting glances back every few seconds. His grin never faded. When they reached the bishop's offices, the child stayed in the entryway, but motioned Hellboy inside. The room was small, but comfortable and all of the furniture looked like it had been there since the church was built. Though they were very worn, all of the simple wooden pieces were carefully oiled and polished.

The man behind the desk rose as Hellboy entered. He was probably in his late sixties. Much like his furniture, he was old but maintained. His thin hair was meticulously combed and his floor-length robes were neatly pressed.

"I am so grateful you're here," Bishop Dunn gushed warmly and came around his desk. "We've exhausted all of the traditional means to get this lost soul to rest. We didn't know what else to do besides call your bureau."

The bishop paused, taking in the proportions of Hellboy's right hand and then held out his left for a handshake. Hellboy took his hand with a smirk, saying, "It's not a problem, bishop. I'm glad we could get out this way."

Leaning around Hellboy's bulky frame, Bishop Dunn gave the altar boy a hard stare, "Have you finished with the hymnals?"

Startled, the boy shook his awed expression and sheepishly muttered, "No, bishop."

"Then perhaps you'd best get back to it. Your ma expects you home by lunch." As the child scurried out of sight, the bishop's sternness melted into a smile that reminded Hellboy of his father. "You'll have to forgive him. Christopher has been going on about your arrival all week. You're quite a hero in his eyes."

"Cute kid," Hellboy grunted, not sure what else to say.

Kids never had the same reaction to Hellboy's presence that their parents did. They always wanted to climb on him, or ask him questions about his tail and horns, or they just grinned up at him knowingly. Inevitably, some concerned adult would come scoop them up and hurry away with them, casting fearful glances over their shoulder. Hellboy would never understand it.

Hellboy cleared his throat and turned back to the bishop, "Tell me about your ghost."

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John shuddered involuntarily. The church was completely silent except for his footsteps, which echoed loudly in the open space, but he knew he wasn't alone. He could feel the spirit in the back of his mind, the cold pressure of it working its way down his spine. The ghost's desperation was his own. He knew something was missing, that it had been stolen. It had to be found. He NEEDED to find it.

His feet moved on their own, taking him to the front of the chapel. He stepped around the altar and into the small room beyond it. To the left, there were stairs leading up to the choir bays and the organ bench, but to the right was a set of stairs leading down. There was a red satin rope tied across the entrance with a sign that read 'No Tourists' in five different languages.

Part of John screamed that he should wait for Hellboy to come back with the bishop, but the need to go on was too strong. He ducked beneath the rope and descended the narrow stairs. The natural light from the chapel faded into a shuddering, yellow glow that was provided by a strand of bulbs tacked to one wall. Cold seeped through his coat as he went deeper into the church's lower levels. John opened his mouth to exhale, watching as his breath misted.

He reached a small room lined with shelves and countless books and documents. Walking around the large table that dominated the center of the room, he went to another staircase. Blackness stared up at him. John reached for a switch that dangled freely against the wall. He flicked it on with trembling fingers and a series of bulbs identical to the ones in the first stairwell blinked to life.

The presence in his mind swelled. Whispering filled his ears. It was in a language he couldn't understand, but he still knew what it wanted. He needed what the dead needed. John stepped forward to continue his descent. A hand like ice gripped the back of his neck, driving him on. Shudders ripped through his body as he reached the crypts. Instinctually, he knew the catacombs were vast. He could feel every soul that rested in them. They pressed against his mind and against his chest, suffocating him. He couldn't feel his legs as he moved on, couldn't feel his feet hitting the ground. His breathing was labored and uneven. Each gasp was a chore.

Rows of carefully arranged skeletons stretched out in every direction. There were niches carved into the solid stone walls, one right on top of another, each one with a body, some with two. The open graves went from floor to ceiling. Some of the skeletons still had rags clinging to them, but most were bare.

John kept his eyes straight ahead, his hands clutched into tight fists as he made his way between the rows of dead. Despite the cold, sweat had broken out across his brow. He could feel it soaking into his clothes. The whispers were growing louder, more adamant. They were practically screams when he reached a round room with one sarcophagus in the middle. It was carved of a single, massive piece of marble.

As John got closer, he could see symbols carved deeply into the sides and top of the lid. The carvings had been filled with some kind of metal that had rusted away over the ages, leaving behind long, dark stains on the white marble. The symbols reminded him of the runes found on Druid relics, but he didn't know enough about the subject to be certain.

Before he could even consider what he was doing, John reached to push at the heavy lid. It didn't move. He dug his toes against the ground, putting his weight into it. When it still didn't budge, he shoved his shoulder against it, his feet scrabbling desperately for purchase. A frightened whimper slipped from his lips as the marble budged. The sound of stone grinding against stone filled the crypt, all but drowning out the screaming in John's head. The lid finally fell to the side of the coffin with a massive thud.

A faint voice drifted through the quiet that followed. For a second, John thought it was the spirit again, but then he heard his name being called. He wanted to answer, but he was trapped by the blank stare of a skull. The skeleton inside the sarcophagus turned its head and blue fire ignited in the empty orbits where its eyes once were.

Movement near the corpse's chest drew John's attention away from the horrid gaze. Clutched tightly in the bone hands was a box made of metal. It was a cube that was approximately sixteen inches deep. Every bit of the metal had a rune-like carving on it, even the interior, but there was nothing else inside it.

John looked up at Hellboy as he came running into the room. The spirit moved in and through him, using his mouth to say, "The court of shades turns beneath the earth. Return the bones or turn to ash with their rise."

The moment the spirit left him, John collapsed.

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TBC…

I probably have more of the movie-verse in there than I want, but old habits die hard… I might have to reread the comics to catch the vibe.


	2. The Inscription

OMG, an update the next day. What's the likelihood? Seriously though, don't get used to it. I have work the next two days so I don't get to do much with this.

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Hellboy paced the bishop's office, tethered by a phone cord. He had the phone's base clutched in his right hand and the actual receiver in his left. Kate was on the other end of the line.

"You're certain he said 'court of shades'?" the folklore expert's voice was thin and plagued by static, but Hellboy could still understand her.

Hellboy glanced over at his psychic when she mentioned him. The boy was sprawled in the same position he'd left him in, still unconscious. When Hellboy carried him out of the crypt, John had been shaking and sweating, but he seemed to have settled down. Small though he was, he barely fit on the bench in the bishop's office. It was made to seat two side by side.

"I know what I heard, Kate. It was court."

"Not council?"

"Court."

Kate was quiet for a moment, her silence filled up by the static of the long distance connection. "Well, shit."

"Do you think 'bones' could be literal? Am I looking for actual bones, or am I looking for something else? I've gotten nothing over here, Kate, I need your help."

"What can you tell me about the man that was in the coffin?"

Hellboy shook his head and dropped the phone base on the desk, falling into one of the chairs. He flipped the phone to his other ear and raised his shoulder to pin it in place before he admitted, "Nothing. The bishop is in the archives right now trying to figure out his name, but he didn't know the man's identity off the top of his head. They've only got about a quarter of that crypt catalogued. Oh, and there's something else."

"I don't like the way you said that."

"There were runic markings all over the sarcophagus, the kind for keeping power contained. Whatever was in that iron box, somebody went to a lot of trouble to make it stay there."

There was rustling in the background on Kate's end. Hellboy thought it might be her flipping through papers, but he wasn't sure. "I'm going to have to look into this a little more. Take some pictures of the sarcophagus and call me when you know this guy's name. I think you might be dealing with something Fay, probably Unseelie."

"That was my thought," Hellboy groaned, sliding his hand across his face. Fay were all difficult to deal with, but the Unseelie were the worst. He wished he had a better idea of what horrible thing had been unleashed. "I'll send those pictures to you as soon as I can get to a computer."

"What about John?"

Hellboy dropped his hand into his lap and looked at the boy, his eyes trailing over the soft lines of his features. After he thought about it a moment, he said, "I'll send him to the airport when he wakes up. He's not ready for this."

A soft knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Hellboy said a quick 'talk to you later' and hung up the phone before he called out, "Come on in."

The woman that entered was wearing the robes of a priest, her thick, flame-colored hair pulled back into a braid that fell to her waist. Holding out a bowl with water in it, she motioned at John, "Bishop Dunn said your friend might need looking after." Her voice was almost musical, the strong Irish accent tinting each word.

Hellboy nodded and she swept inside silently. He had a hard time not noticing how beautiful she was. There was sharpness to her features that few people possessed. He watched her delicate hands dip a washcloth into the basin she'd brought with her. She wrung it out and gently dabbed at John's forehead.

"You're very big in person," she said as she wiped the dried sweat from the psychic's face.

Hellboy snorted and smiled, "That's because they never put anybody else in the pictures for the magazines. It's hard to tell how tall I am without references."

"I suppose that's true… Will you help me take off his jacket?"

Hellboy got out of the chair and hooked his arm around the boy's body to hoist him up. The boy's head rolled to one side and Hellboy carefully slid his stone hand beneath it for support. He'd noticed downstairs how light the kid was, but he marveled again at how easy it was to lift him. If he had to, he could carry the boy all day without getting tired. The woman maneuvered the jacket off John's shoulders so Hellboy could set him back on the bench. He tried not to notice how John's shirt clung to his chest. Despite the weather, he was wearing a short-sleeve t-shirt beneath his sheepskin jacket.

The redheaded woman shook out John's coat and laid it across the back of the bench, mentioning, "I'm Chloe, by the way."

"Hellboy," he answered distractedly, sliding his flesh hand down John's arm.

She laughed and said, "I think I might have deduced that," but Hellboy really wasn't listening.

He knelt by the couch and turned the boy's arm over. The edge of the scar he'd seen earlier was just the tip of the iceberg. Half a dozen horizontal scars ran down the length of John's wrist. Some of them were thin and white, just scratches, but the one next to his hand had been a deep cut.

"Oh my," Chloe breathed. "Poor soul."

Something in Hellboy sank. There was no way John could work for them. If he was suicidal, the stress of the job would bring him back to this within months. He turned over John's other arm and saw similar markings, though they weren't as even and none of them were deep enough to cut a vein. Hellboy rubbed his thumb across the ragged, red scar, feeling the raised flesh.

John twitched and then tensed under his hand, his dark eyes flashing open to catch on Hellboy's. As he realized what was going on, the tension spread. John scrambled off the couch, making Chloe move back to avoid getting bowled over. The boy's hand went to the arm Hellboy had been touching and he squeezed his wrist subconsciously.

His gaze hardened and narrowed on Hellboy as he ground out, "You had no right."

Hellboy didn't try to argue, since he knew what the kid said was true. He sat back on his heels as John grabbed his coat and fled from the room. When the sound of John's footsteps had faded, Hellboy sighed.

Tentatively, Chloe asked, "Should you go after him?"

"No. He needs to cool off," Hellboy answered with conviction. Even if he did go after John, he didn't know how to fix it, didn't know what he'd say. Feeling more upset by his discovery than he could've anticipated, Hellboy decided that the best course to take was to get back to work. "Tell the bishop I'm in the crypt if he asks."

He got to his feet and slipped out into the hall. As he walked through the sanctuary, he looked around for John, but didn't see him. The kid was probably outside, or on his way back to the hotel. Hellboy mentally kicked himself for not getting his room key from John earlier. Hopefully the landlord would be gracious enough to give him another.

Cutting past the altar, Hellboy moved the rope from the stairwell and trotted down into the sublevels. He found the round room with the lone sarcophagus easily enough. It wasn't that deep in the catacombs. If it had been deeper, Hellboy never would have heard the loud bang of the slab hitting the floor and John would still be lost in the crypt.

It was very unusual for a stone coffin to be kept on its own inside a medieval crypt, especially if the occupant wasn't important enough for his name to be recorded. Being buried with family was the tradition during the age when the Wells Cathedral was built. Knights were taken home for burial if it could be managed and royal families had large, elaborate crypts built so that they could all rest in the same place after death.

Hellboy swept the round room with an examining eye, trying to pick out things he didn't notice before. There was a wide, shallow crevice that ran around the circumference of the room. Hellboy crouched down to inspect it, his tail swishing across the floor. There was black residue in the bottom of the trough and the hand-carved stones that lined it were as smooth as river rocks. It wasn't as deep at the entrance to the room as it was at the back and there was a hole bored through to another level where the trough was deepest. Moldering wood and rusted fittings were piled near the shallow end. As Hellboy pawed through the mess, he finally realized what he was looking at: Fay deterrent at its best.

At one point in time, the decomposed pile of wood had probably been a series of buckets and funnels that allowed water to run into the trough. It moved down the slope to the drain on the other side, keep the sarcophagus surrounded by running water as long as someone remembered to fill the buckets. Fay couldn't cross running water, which was partially why they weren't a problem in modern cities. There were too many underground pipes for them to move around effectively. Not to mention that it neutralized almost all of their power.

Hellboy considered the pile of rotted wood. The fact that there was still any wood left meant that someone had maintained this room long after the unknown man had gone into the coffin. It had only been forgotten in the last hundred years or so. Once the running water was gone, the Fay would've been able to sense the crypt again and whatever was hidden here.

The temperature in the room dropped suddenly, making the hair on the back of Hellboy's neck stand up. He knew instantly that the ghost had returned. The apparition flickered at the edge of his vision, but when he looked directly at it, he couldn't see anything. Hellboy resorted to watching it in his peripherals.

"What the hell were you guarding, buddy?" Hellboy asked, though he wouldn't get much of an answer without John.

He went back to the sarcophagus to find the skeleton's eyes alight with blue flames. Its jaw clacked uselessly. Hellboy took the iron box, shaking the dead man's hands off when they clung to it. Once, the box was heavy and solid, but time had made it brittle. Hellboy could crush it easily in his human hand. Despite that, it was still iron. No Fay, Unseelie or otherwise, could survive the touch of iron. It burned their skin, and in high enough doses, made their magic unravel until there was nothing left of them.

When Hellboy tilted the box, something rattled across the bottom. He peered inside. At first, he thought it was just a pebble. He picked it up and furrowed his brow. It was too light to be a rock. He tapped it to his tongue and the porous surface stuck slightly. Only bone stuck. The tiny bone was squat and narrow at one end, possibly at the tip of a finger or toe. Hellboy pushed it in the pocket of his pants.

After laying the box back inside the sarcophagus, Hellboy pulled a digital camera out of his coat and started taking pictures. He made sure to get the coffin from every side, moving the lid out of way as he came to it. Snapping a few photos of the lid as well, Hellboy flipped it over to look at the back. There was an inscription carved into the marble. Though he was no expert, Hellboy read enough Latin to be able to discern a rough translation. He wasn't at all pleased with what it said.

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John sat on the bed in his room, his knees drawn to his chest. The TV was on, tuned to some kind of strange sci-fi show that he wasn't really watching. He had his arms on the bed beside him; his palms face up so he could see his scars. Emotions battled inside him and his stomach twisted unpleasantly with the conflict. He wanted to be furious at Hellboy for discovering something John wanted to bury in the farthest reaches of his subconscious, but there'd been something in Hellboy's eyes that made him hesitate. There was no pity in his gaze, just sadness.

John couldn't stand pity. He hated it when people felt sorry for him, especially for something that they couldn't comprehend. How could they understand, how could Hellboy understand? Hellboy looked as though he could take on a train and win, so John doubted that he'd ever really lost control of a situation.

People looked at John's scars and thought he wasn't strong enough to face his problems and they pitied him because of his weakness, but Hellboy hadn't. Though John couldn't read his exact thoughts, Hellboy's sorrow for him was more genuine. His sadness wasn't tainted with misplaced sympathy.

John heard a heavy tread coming down the hall and wrapped his arms around his knees. The door in the adjoining room slammed open and shut before someone started rustling around. The two rooms the bureau had booked for them were connected by an interior door that John had left ajar.

The person moving in the other room got quiet and then Hellboy's bulky frame filled the doorway, "Hey, do you have a laptop?"

John blinked at him, surprised that Hellboy didn't feel awkward approaching him after what happened in the church. "Uh," he started and nearly slapped himself for being ineloquent. He never had trouble with words and he didn't want to start infusing his vocabulary with things like 'uh'. John shook his head and closed his eyes for a second so he could gather his thoughts, saying, "Yes, it's in my suitcase."

"Can I-"

"Of course," John answered before he could finish.

He uncurled from the bed and went to his suitcase, digging the protective case out from between his clothes. As John set it up on the table by the window, Hellboy placed a digital camera and cord beside the computer. John hooked it up, asking, "Does the inn have free wireless?"

"Doubt it. Did you see how old our coffee maker was?"

"Right." John went back to his suitcase, coming back with a small green bag that had the image of a motherboard printed on it.

He fished out a card that had an antenna attached to it and stuck it into a slot on the computer. The machine chirped to confirm the connection. John pulled one of the chairs over so he could sit down and Hellboy leaned over his shoulder, one hand propped on the back of the chair. John could feel the heat radiating off of Hellboy and his skin warmed in response. A blush spread on his face as he realized that the closeness was arousing.

Grateful that Hellboy couldn't read his thoughts, John double-clicked on the file to open up the photos Hellboy had taken. "Which ones do you want to send?"

"All of 'em."

John leaned back so Hellboy could log into the secure BPRD server, amazed by how quickly the man could type with just one hand. While they waited for the files to upload, Hellboy cleared his throat. John could feel it coming, the counseling. Now the pity would start. He'd heard it dozens of times, people trying to tell him why life was worthwhile. Every spiel he'd heard ran along the same lines, 'You just haven't found the right reason for living.'

"Look, I did it when I was seventeen. I'm not suicidal anymore," John snapped before Hellboy could start. "So save it."

Hellboy was quiet for a long moment. John couldn't force himself to look at him, but he could feel Hellboy trying to decide what to say. Most people broadcast everything loud and clear, wearing every little thought and whim in the forefront of their mind where John could get to it easily. Not much came from Hellboy but emotion. It disturbed John a little not to know.

"Look, I'll be the first to tell you that I suck at this kind of stuff, but I wanted to apologize. Like you said, I had no right to do that."

John finally looked up from the computer screen, his lips parting as though he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the right words. He settled on a simple, "Thank you."

Hellboy grunted and nodded. Absently scratching the back of his head, Hellboy mumbled, "Yeah, sure," while he reached around John to check his email. There wasn't much there, never was. Everyone knew Hellboy preferred the phone. "So, how long do you think it'll be before she gets it?"

John shrugged, "A few minutes maybe. It's a big file."

The moment the words left his mouth, the phone in Hellboy's room started ringing. Hellboy rushed to answer it, his pockets jingling as he moved. John went to the doorway and stopped, not sure if he should give the demon some privacy.

"Kate? You got it?" Hellboy started. He listened to the person on the other end, saying, "Yeah, did you see the inscription?"

John went back to the computer and brought up the images. He couldn't remember an inscription aside from the runes. Paging through them quickly, he got to the lid and stopped. He could hear Hellboy in the other room talking about the writing. The demon's voice had an edge of concern to it. Curious and not willing to wait for Hellboy to finish his conversation, John opened a translator program and plugged the image into it. The computer whirred as it thought, the little green light indicating the processor was working flashed rapidly. After a few seconds, it spit something out.

_A thousand men to bind him thus_

_This, the King of Shadows and Dust_

_May this cage of iron and bone_

_Forever keep the shade court throne_

John frowned at the results, not sure what to make of them. He did some searching on 'shade court', but hadn't found anything before Hellboy came back.

"Pack your stuff."

"You figured it out? Where are we going next?" John asked as he closed his laptop and shoved it back in the case. When it wouldn't zip, John cussed and pulled the satellite receiver out of the side.

Hellboy leaned down to pick John's suitcase off the ground, dropping it on the bed for him. "Kate and I figured it out, but we're not going anywhere. You're going back to Connecticut and the bureau will make sure you get a ride wherever you need to go."

John froze, his chest constricting, "Wait, what?"

"You're going home. I'll finish this alone," Hellboy said with a hint of regret in his voice.

John reached out to touch Hellboy's thoughts, trying to find a reason there. His mind was more carefully guarded than it had been all morning.

Hellboy growled at his prying, "Quit that. You want to know something, you fucking ask me."

Heat rushed to John's face, but his embarrassment quickly faded into anger, "Why are you shipping me off?"

Hellboy took the laptop case from John's hands and shoved it into the bag, saying, "Because you're not trained and you're nowhere near ready for something like this."

"I can help."

"If I let you stay, I'm going to end up scraping what's left of you off some wall. You're going home," the demon's voice rose to combat with John's anger.

John wasn't deterred, raising his volume to match, "This isn't about that and you know it."

"Stay out of my head," Hellboy snarled.

"I don't have to be in your head, I'm smart enough to sort things out on my own. If this was just about my lack of experience, you would've just said you were sending me back to the bureau. You don't think I can do this!"

Their shouting was probably audible in every room of the inn, but neither of them cared. It was the off-season anyway, and the woman who ran the desk had told them that they were some of the only guests. The staff running the place was a different story.

Hellboy waved his human hand at John, dismissing him easily, "You're making it more than it is."

"Am I?" John yelled. He was almost certain he knew why the investigator was getting rid of him. Since he'd found out about John's attempted suicide, he'd been diligent to not let a single thought slip through his blockade. That was more telling than anything else was. "You haven't given me a sporting chance here! I can do this."

"You can't handle it. It's okay, not everybody can."

John hit him. He had no idea where it came from, but his rage just boiled over. It was like hitting a boulder. Hellboy's head snapped slightly to the side, but white-hot pain exploded through John's knuckles. John shook his hand and glared at the demon. As far as he could see, he hadn't caused any damage to the other man. He hadn't even busted his lip. Hellboy rubbed his jaw while he scrutinized John.

When the silence had stretched to the point that John could practically taste it, he finally spoke. Dropping his voice to a calm, civil tone, he said, "I can do this."

Hellboy ran his tongue over his teeth and nodded, "I guess you can."

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Chloe walked briskly through the corridors of the cathedral, the long tail of her braid bumping rhythmically from one side of her hips to the other. No one bothered her because her fierce green eyes warned against it. People she passed lowered their eyes without even realizing why. She lifted her head, her posture radiating power that had been absent in front of Hellboy.

She hurried outside, her gaze flicking around to ensure no one was in the courtyards. Not that it would stop her if there was. Crossing the parking lot, she made her way down a gentle slope of grass to the moat that separated the church from the bishop's palace. It always made her laugh that the clergy made such a point about living in poverty, but the bishops had lived in the palace since the thirteen hundreds.

Numerous swans floated in the water feature, but they scattered as she approached, most of them taking refuge on the thin strip of land in front of the palace wall. Chloe hissed at them, smirking as they flew to another part of the moat. They made no noise, but only because people had trained the animals to be silent and ring a bell for food. Chloe hated everything that the white birds stood for. The swans were the taming of the wilds, they were the human hand that hovered over what was once untamed and untouchable.

Chloe walked beside the water until a thick stand of trees blocked her from view, continuing to the point where the trees from opposite side of the moat nearly met above it. The sunlight broke and scattered as it came through the leaves, barely touching the pale green water.

Once she was certain she was out of sight, Chloe untied the ornamental belt from around her waist and slipped the priest robes over her head. Except for a leather dagger sheath strapped to her left thigh, she was bare. The woman's body was completely flawless, not even a freckle or mole to mar the smooth expanse of her flesh. She dipped one foot into the water, feeling its chill before she stepped down into the mossy shallows. Her movements didn't disturb the stagnant water.

Slowly, she undid her hair, letting the red curls spread over the surface of the water. It spilled down her front, covering her ample breasts and hanging nearly to her navel. She waded into the water until it came to her chest, and then reached down to draw the blade from its sheath. Chloe pressed one finger to the tip, watching as blood bloomed and slid down her hand.

The blood rolled across her wrist and dripped into the moat, disturbing the stillness. A single ripple spread out from her and then the water became as smooth as glass. Chloe smiled at her reflection, then at the pair of eyes that emerged from the shadowy depths. The kelpie regarded her for several seconds before it rose to the surface.

Though it looked like a horse, the kelpie was anything but. Its mane hung across its face in thick, heavy strings that were wrapped in moss and weed from the bottom of the moat. Water sloughed from its dark flanks as it stood to its full height. Chloe had to tilt her head back to look the beast in the eye.

"My lady," the animal hissed.

Chloe regarded the kelpie with a scowl, her vivid eyes half-lidded with distaste, "What have I told you about this form?"

The kelpie tossed its head, throwing its mane back from its face and bearing a mouthful of sharply pointed teeth. It reared and then started to shrink. The animal's long snout rounded out and flattened, retreating towards its neck. Its shoulders crawled up the ribcage as the hooves spread into fingers and the knees reversed direction with a crunch. The fur vanished, leaving beneath pale pink flesh. Much of the muscled stayed, just reforming into new shapes. Once the kelpie was done, he was a man with a dark tangle of hair that hung to his elbows.

Chloe's scowl disappeared and she wrapped her arms around his muscular shoulders, "There now, much better." She licked his chest and the flesh there twitched the same way a horse's would if a fly had landed on it. "How are you fairing with my father's body?"

The kelpie regarded her with eyes the same color as a mountain lake, "He is nearly assembled. The court is already gathering. Many of his faithful await your order."

"Good," she murmured against the tightly corded lines of his neck.

Quietly, so as not to arouse her anger, the kelpie asked, "Why do you remain here, my lady? You have everything you came for."

Chloe pulled away from him and moved towards the bank, "Because the guardian must be dealt with. There have been… complications."

"Complications," the beast echoed without asking. He knew better than to question his mistress directly. Her rage was as sudden and terrible as her father's was.

Her grin was laced with wickedness. She spread out on the soft grass beside the moat and assured him, "It's nothing for you to concern yourself with."

Because her gaze commanded him, the kelpie crossed to her and climbed out of the water, lowering himself over her body. Chloe's hands wound tightly in the wavy strands of his hair. He kissed her body, worshiping her in the ways that she demanded whenever he came to her.

Chloe opened herself to the kelpie and relished how close she was to bringing her father back into the world. His retribution on the humans would come in the darkness like a plague on mankind, and not even the Seelie would be able to stop him. If they were smart, they wouldn't even try.

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TBC…

I've been writing all day… dear god, what's wrong with me? This chapter is a touch shorter than I intended, but it needed to end where it did. I hope you like John's attitude as much as I do. I had no idea he was going to punch HB until he did it. I guess it was a surprise for everybody.


	3. The Boar

Rating bumps up to M here for violence and more than a few innuendos.

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An old truck bounced and grumbled down one of England's unmarked dirt roads. Hellboy was driving, which John found amusing since he barely fit behind the steering wheel. All around them, rolling green countryside spread out as far as the eye could see. It was mostly farmland that was divided every so often by a fence or low stone wall, but owned or wild, it was still beautiful.

The passenger window was rolled down and John had his arm propped up on it. He flexed his fingers, curling them into the wind and letting the currents roll over the contours of his hand. Cold air rushed around inside the outdated cab, keeping the odds smells at bay. They'd borrowed the truck from the inn's owner and left him a hefty deposit that was probably worth more than the actual vehicle. It ran and had four-wheel drive and that was all Hellboy cared about.

They were a few dozen miles outside of Wells, headed west. Without a radio (the one from the dashboard was missing), the ride had been comfortably quiet, which Hellboy didn't mind. The boy was mostly content to stare out at the scenery. When the road straightened out and Hellboy was able to pull his eyes away, he glanced over at John.

He wasn't sure exactly what happened in the hotel room, but his view of the kid had changed. The boy had guts, Hellboy gave him that. The last human being who actually had balls enough to hit Hellboy was… he couldn't remember. It had been that long. People didn't get physically aggressive towards him. Hellboy wanted to say that it was because of his winning personality, but he knew it was due more to the fact that he was almost seven feet tall and built like a bear.

Hellboy wanted to ask about the scars, but he didn't. It was an extremely sensitive subject with the kid and Hellboy didn't do 'sensitive' well. He didn't like dancing on eggshells so he could have a conversation without pissing someone off. He much preferred being straightforward and blunt, which made all the women he knew roll their eyes on a very regular basis. Well, all the women expect Kate. Kate had come to accept him the way he was.

John pulled some slack into his seatbelt so he could turn and ask, "Are you ever going to tell me what the Court of Shades is?"

Hellboy switched hands on the steering wheel, laying his human arm on the bench seat between them, "Guess we've got enough time. You know fairies, right? The dumbed-down, sticky sweet things you see on kid's clothes and as lawn decorations?"

"Yeah."

"They don't exist, but they're based loosely on something real. The Seelie are a little closer to what people think of as fairies, but they're mean. They'll keep people as pets for hundreds of years, keeping them young with enchanted food."

John swallowed and the space between his eyebrows creased, "What do they do with them? The people they keep, I mean."

They reached a crossroad that was cement and Hellboy stopped the car. He glanced both directions, asking, "Do you see a road sign?"

John stuck his head out the window, but didn't see anything but grass, dirt, and a bit of fence that had collapsed. "No."

With a frustrated growl, Hellboy put the truck in gear and went straight. After a minute or so of John watching him drive, he remembered to continue, "They do all kinds of stuff to people, mostly whatever they think is funny, which sucks for the human involved."

"So the Court of Shades is where they live?" John ventured.

Hellboy shook his head, "No. The Seelie belong to the Court of Glem. The Court of Shades was the Unseelie court, but it disbanded back in the early part of the tenth century when a small army came in and wiped out their king. If his bones were in that box, then we've got to find them, and fast."

"Is the Shade Court that much worse?"

"Kid, compared to the Unseelie, the Seelie are a day in the park."

John wrapped his arms around his chest and stared out at the passing landscape. Hellboy let him digest what he'd said. He wasn't going to force John to stay behind, but maybe he'd come to his senses when he realized how dangerous things were. There was so much more Hellboy could throw in about the Unseelie to dissuade John, but he didn't want to scare the kid unnecessarily.

After he thought he'd given John enough time to process, Hellboy mentioned, "I can get you to an airport anytime you feel like you're in over your head."

John's glare said enough.

"Yeah, that's what I figured," Hellboy sighed and reached into one of the utility pockets on his belt. He withdrew a chain with a bizarre pendant hanging from it and handed it to John. "Will you at least humor me and wear some protection?"

John arched one brow, snickering at Hellboy's choice of words, "Protection?"

"What are you, twelve? It's made of iron, it'll keep you safe."

The boy slipped it over his head, still smiling, and picked up the heavy amulet to examine it. It was a circle, inscribed on one edge with five runic symbols. Below that was a carving of the sun overlapping a crescent moon. The whole thing was about two inches in diameter, just a little bigger than a half-dollar coin. John stuck it under his shirt.

"Are they going to be pissed that you let me stay?" John asked, studying Hellboy's profile.

"Probably."

"Will you get in trouble?"

"You know, kid, we're getting back into that twenty questions game and I don't play."

His mouth twisting to one side, John huffed in agitation and propped his feet up on the dashboard. Hellboy could deal with the questions about the courts. The more the kid knew about them, the better prepared he'd be, but John didn't need to know that Hellboy was sticking his neck out to let him stay. He'd already told Kate that the kid wasn't ready, so when he didn't arrive back at base, people in high places were going to start wondering. Although, being suspended wasn't the worst thing in the world.

"What happens if you get suspended?"

Hellboy groaned, "You don't ever shut up, do you?" The question wasn't as annoyed or serious as Hellboy wanted it to be. It actually seemed to be tinted with a teasing quality.

"Only when I'm in bed," John answered with a smirk. Picking at his sleeve, the kid added, "Unless there's someone in bed with me and then I get pretty loud."

The truck swerved and John grabbed the handle on the roof to keep from getting thrown against the door. After Hellboy got the vehicle under control, he stuck John with an incredulous look. The kid just laughed.

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It was almost nightfall before Hellboy pulled the truck off the road. John had spent a majority of the trip trying to analyze why he'd felt such a strong bolt of lust when Hellboy had leaned over him at the hotel. He hadn't come to any conclusions, besides the obvious. The demon was well built, and exposed that fact every moment of the day because he didn't wear a shirt. John didn't have a particular weakness for muscle, but he had to admit that he wanted to explore the hard planes of Hellboy's chest and abdomen with his hands and mouth. Once he got past the body, the demon was brash, and bawdy, but oddly charming.

They parked near a whitewashed wooden fence. John stayed in the cab as Hellboy got out to open the gate to the property. The demon came back, the truck dipping as he hoisted his considerable mass into the driver's seat.

As they drove into the field, John asked, "Do you know the owner, or are we going to get shot if somebody finds us out here?"

The truck bounced over the uneven terrain, the shocks squeaking every time they hit anything bigger than a pothole, which was every few seconds.

Hellboy grunted, "Never been shot at out here."

"So you don't know them," John stated, getting a little nervous.

If England was anything like home, people got very territorial when random strangers decided to drive onto their farm. Though, John had his doubts about the polite and proper English being much like the country hicks of Chickasaw, Arkansas. John never wanted to look on that town again.

Hellboy pulled up next to a steep hill with a tree perched at the peak. The tree's root system slithered in and out of the mound of earth, giving the impression that the tree was suspended in the air. John unbuckled his seatbelt, but didn't get out, looking to Hellboy for direction.

"I know somebody who's lived here since way before any of this land was owned," the demon said as he put the truck in park and killed the engine. "But if he had opposable thumbs and owned a gun, he would shoot at us so stay sharp."

John was tempted to stay in the truck and let Hellboy handle it, but his pride wouldn't let him. It had already taken a few shots over the course of the day and didn't seem like it would survive another direct hit. Plus, he didn't want Hellboy sending him home. Being a part of the bureau was the only thing in his life that made any sense.

Taking a deep breath, John left the truck and joined Hellboy in the field. For several minutes, they stood in knee-high grass (almost waist-high for John). Though Hellboy's mind seemed serene, the demon's fingers were resting on the handle of his gun. An electric energy pulsed in the air. It was similar to the energy John felt when the ghost touched his mind, just older. The power was almost stale.

As the sun dipped behind the horizon, something shimmered in the branches of the tree. John narrowed his eyes and tried to figure out what it was. It was like trying to make shapes in the heat coming off asphalt in July. More shimmering objects appeared in the failing light. The energy in the air lost some of its staleness, growing and crackling at the edge of John's subconscious. It made him realize that he was trying to see the objects when they had to be sensed.

John reached out to the unknown shapes with his mind and they came into sharp focus. There were countless wards and charms hanging from the branches by strips of leather. Most looked handmade, crudely constructed from bone, antler, fur pelts, and hooves. They rattled in the biting evening wind.

"Can you see the stuff in the tree?" Hellboy leaned over to ask.

John nodded.

"Good, means you'll be able to go on a bigger variety of missions." When John looked at him with one eyebrow arched, Hellboy elaborated, "Seeing into the spectral realm in one thing, most psychics can do that, but if you can see the hidden world of the Fay, you've got a lot of uses."

There were a lot of uses he wanted to explore with Hellboy, but John bit his tongue against any comments saying as much. He blushed slightly, thankful that it was too dark for Hellboy to see the bloom of color on his cheeks and neck. He had to get his infatuation under control or get it out of his system. If he didn't address it, it was just going to get worse.

The night continued to darken around them. They were far enough outside city limits that they weren't going to have any light to go by. The moon was only half-full, so it gave everything a soft, white glow, but didn't penetrate any of the shadows. John thought about going back to the truck to turn the headlights on, but wasn't sure if it would chase off whatever they were waiting for.

As the night life started stirring and making noise, something finally moved at the base of the tree. It was fairly large, certainly not a fox or possum. Whatever it was, it shuffled around near the tree's roots for a few minutes before it made its way out into the moonlight. As it was illuminated, John noticed the long snout and small tusks protruding from its lower lip. It was a boar. John started to relax before he spotted that the boar was standing on its hind legs and had large human hands stuffed into heavily armored gauntlets.

Hellboy moved forward, shouting, "Hey Grom, old buddy!"

The boar froze, bright yellow eyes turning to them in a blur. For a breath, he stayed where he was, muttering, "Hellboy," and then he was running in the opposite direction.

Hellboy followed him at a saunter. John kept pace with Hellboy easily. Despite the fact that he was taking his time, they weren't losing much ground.

"Aren't you afraid he's going to get away?" John asked.

"Have you seen how short his legs are? He's not going to get far," Hellboy returned with a shadowed smile.

Within a minute, they were gaining on Grom. The boar was panting raggedly, looking back every few seconds as he scrambled over the rolling hills of the pasture. A rabbit bolted from a stand of tall weeds just before he reached it. John could've sworn he heard the rabbit saying, "Nowhere to hide, Gruagach," as it vanished in the grasses.

Hellboy jogged the last few feet, grabbing the squat creature by the belt he was wearing and hoisting him into the air, "You know it hurts my feelings when you run, Grom." His sarcasm was dry.

The boar squealed, "I am not Grom, you insufferable brute. Release me!"

"Yeah, yeah. Grom, Gruagach, whatever. You're the only two legged pig I know." Hellboy growled as the boar tried to hit him with one of the heavy gauntlets. He gave the animal a good shake and tossed him into the grass. "Let's talk about the Shade Court. What do you know?"

"Nothing. It's gone, broken."

"I've heard they found the bones of the King. Tell me where they're going to resurrect him."

"Then you know more than I do. The witches of England are silent. I don't know anything about the king."

John stayed just behind Hellboy, prodding at the boar's mind. Within the coils of anger and fear, John touched a sorrow so deep that it flooded him. John gasped involuntarily, clutching at his chest as tears brimmed and spilled over. He felt as though his world was coming apart at the seams. The boar's memories played behind his eyelids when he squeezed them shut.

There was a beautiful woman, a human woman with long brown hair and a face that even the Seelie were envious of. The boar had been a shape shifter of some kind then, but she knew him as a handsome elf that would drag himself through hellfire just so he could lie down at her feet. He loved her more deeply than John could even begin to understand.

John pushed at the memory, trying to see something relevant. Wherever he went in the Fay's mind, the memory was there. It was soaked into every corner of his subconscious, alongside a fathomless sorrow and a hatred that burned away what little was left of his identity. Tears slid freely down John's face as he navigated the labyrinth that was Grom.

Hellboy turned away from the boar, brushing his flesh hand against John's shoulder and calling his name. Buried too deeply to answer, John held the Fay's gaze and continued to search. The painful memory swelled and played in John's head, possibly the only defense Grom had against John's intrusion.

Gruagach, as he was called then, and the woman lounged in a garden. He was nearly drunk on her gaze. She stroked his hair and begged him to show her his true form, swearing that she loved him too deeply to be frightened. The warning he gave her was simple, "If you scream in terror, my magic will unravel and I will be no more." Fear would be his undoing, specifically her fear.

Though he was one of the most powerful beings in all of England, slayer of giants and Unseelie, his life was wrapped so tightly in hers that her every whim and expression altered him. He took his true form at her request. He was monstrous, towering over her. His face was that of a lion with tusks that curved up from his lower lip and claws that could make armies into ribbons. Her fear made the air around him cold.

Hellboy grabbed John's shoulders, leaning down so they were eye to eye. The moment his attention was diverted, Grom ran. Hellboy caught the movement, looking after Grom with a muttered, "shit," but he stayed with John. The demon's brow creased with worry as he tapped John's face lightly. "Come on, kid. Snap out of it."

John blinked for the first time in several minutes, forcing the last of the tears away. He rubbed the sleeve of his coat against his face. "You turned into a bird," John said over Hellboy's shoulder, directing it at Grom's shrinking backside.

"Wha-" Hellboy started to ask, and then turned to find that Grom had stopped running.

John moved around the demon and raised his voice, "You turned into a songbird so she wouldn't be frightened anymore, but she screamed anyway."

The grasses nearly swallowed the boar, but John could still see the coal-like glow of the animal's eyes and the rising mist from his breath.

Since he seemed to have Grom's undivided attention, John slowly stepped towards him, "You always hated her for it."

"She swore to love me, no matter what form I took."

Hellboy groaned and muttered, "You've got to be kidding."

John elbowed him in the stomach, ignoring the surprised 'oomph' as he continued, "You saw the cat, I know you did. She was trying to warn you."

Grom's eyes disappeared, but John could still make out his silhouette in the darkness. He was processing John's words, going over the memory in his head. John helped him along by dragging the cat to the forefront, reminding him that it was a gray tabby, that it had set its gaze hungrily on him.

"We are not here to play therapist with a worn down Fay," Hellboy grumbled right against John's ear.

The brush of the demon's breath on his skin made John shudder, though Hellboy's intention was to be quiet, not arouse him. John clutched the edges of his jacket and pulled it closed around him, trying to pass off the shiver as the cold getting to him. "Have you ever heard the old phrase about catching flies with sugar?"

Hellboy shrugged.

Oblivious to their conversation, the boar shook his head and started to back away, "No, you're making me think these things. You're a conjurer."

John moved forward the way someone would approach a spooked horse. He kept his hands raised at chest level, speaking in low, even tones, "That's not true, and you know it. The memories are already there. You think about it every day."

Grom made it to a small, dark clearing, but kept to the grass. Mud squished under his cloven feet, barely audible over the rustle of the meadow as the three figures pushed through it. The wind picked up and obscured all other sounds as it played in the wards hanging from the gnarled tree. It swept around the bone and antler, banging them against wood and each other. Melodious as it was, there was something foreboding about it.

Behind John, Hellboy growled, "You're wasting your time on him."

John didn't want to believe it was true. No creature deserved to live with such sorrow. If all it took was a little convincing, then John was willing to give him that. Grom's fondest and dearest connection to the human world was tainted by a foggy, unclear memory of the truth. Hellboy had worked in the BPRD longer than anyone, so John hoped that it was his impatience talking, not his experience.

John's next step forward sent stagnant water spilling over the edge of his boot, the icy chill made goose bumps rocket across his skin. The dark space he thought was more field rippled and gleamed as it caught the moonlight. It was a very small pond, more of a puddle of standing water than anything. Grom stood just on the other side, staring at them with his bright yellow eyes. A dark intention took shape beneath the surface of the animal's mind. John could sense it, feel it, but he didn't know exactly what it was.

He kept pushing, "Gruagach, think hard. She was calling your name, reaching out for you. You remember."

Those glowing yellow points stayed fixed on John for a minute or more. Grom's mind was in turmoil, tumbled through the memory of his demise, as well as other, more pleasant memories of his lover. They churned so quickly that John had a hard time keeping up with them. Then, suddenly, all of his thoughts stopped.

"All hail the King of Shade," Grom growled.

Hellboy was reaching to yank John back even as the pond exploded into the air. Fingers closed on the back of John's jacket while a mass of flesh and hooves slammed through the curtain of water. The pull at his back was paired with a horse's shoulder ramming into his chest. John landed hard, throwing up his arms to protect his face from the animal's back hooves. A kick glanced off his wrist and hot pain exploded through every inch of his arm. With a cry, John curled around his injury.

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Hellboy knew what it was instantly. Clods of earth and grass flew where the kelpie landed, ripped up by his wild pawing. The horse's nostrils flared as he reared in front of Hellboy, his whiney more of a roar than a neigh. Hellboy dodged back from the animal's flailing front legs.

He was worried about the kid, but the kelpie was too much to deal with if his attention was divided. His left hand went instinctively to his gun. It had barely cleared the holster when the kelpie dove forward to smash his hard head into Hellboy's shoulder. The blow made Hellboy stumble back, the gun spinning out of sight. It thumped softly as it hit the ground and disappeared in the field.

"Son of a…" Hellboy started to say. He looked out into the dark meadow to try and pinpoint the weapon, but sharp teeth closed on the thick muscle at the juncture of his neck and he had to give up on the gun. The hit of pain made him grit his teeth.

"Ow," he snarled at the kelpie. "That hurt."

He followed his words with a strike from his right hand. It connected solidly with the animal's head. Something cracked and the kelpie staggered. Feeling smug, Hellboy threw his hand back for another attack, but the animal wasn't as dazed as he seemed. Teeth bared, the kelpie lunged in the middle of Hellboy's swing.

The animal slammed into him like a truck going eighty. The force of it knocked Hellboy's feet out from under him. Before he recovered, both front hooves came down on his chest. Air rushed from Hellboy's lungs in a quick 'whoosh' that left him gasping. The kelpie reared up slightly and brought them down again, but Hellboy rolled just before they hit. He was still close enough to the impact that it made his teeth rattle.

Hellboy got his feet underneath him so he was in a crouch and leapt up into the kelpie's next lunge. Their bodies connected with a wet, slapping sound. Hellboy's hands slid over the animal's thick neck, trying to find a grip on the slimy flesh. His fingers wrapped in the mane at the base of the kelpie's head. With a roar, he flung the kelpie over his shoulder. The mane came loose in his hand as the horse's weight hit the strands. He wiped the hair off on his pants as the kelpie got to his feet.

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John propped himself up on one elbow, his chest still pressed in the muddy bank. His clothes were soaked and the wind was already making frost on his eyelashes, but he doubted that his trembling could be attested to the cold. He watched as Hellboy grappled with the creature that was in the guise of a horse. He'd heard the animal's terrible scream, there was no way it was a normal horse. That sound had sent fear rippling down John's spine.

If the scream hadn't given it away, the animal's mind would have. His thoughts were too organized, too precise to be any kind of normal beast. His mind was predominately set on the need to kill Hellboy, but just below that was a desire to find an object. It needed a small piece of bone that it seemed to think Hellboy possessed.

John didn't have time to dig any deeper. The kelpie threw his considerable mass against Hellboy and knocked him to the ground again. Whether it was intentional or unintended, the animal fell with him. Hellboy grunted as the weight crushed him into the dirt. He tried to smash the creature with his stone hand, but the position he was in made it impossible to get enough strength behind the blows for it to be effective. The kelpie twisted his head so he could snap at Hellboy's face.

John struggled to get up. His feet slid in the mud, water squishing between his toes with every move. Fortunately, the temperature was taking some of the sting out of his arm. The pain only made itself known when he used that hand to get his balance. Ignoring it the best he could, John finally managed to get some traction. He stumbled in the direction he saw Hellboy's gun go.

Glancing up to see Hellboy still struggling to get out from beneath the horse, John searched the grasses frantically with both hands. Stones and grass and dirt were all he could feel. He peered into the darkness, trying to find even the smallest gleam of the gun's barrel. None of the soft, blue white highlights from the moon looked anything like a gun.

Hellboy's angry, pained shout made John's head snap up. The kelpie had torn into Hellboy's arm. Even in the limited light, John could see blood running freely down the demon's skin. Hellboy caught the horse's nose in his stone hand, his thick digits curling around the lower jaw. He yanked, but lost his grip. Something that might have been a tooth pin wheeled to the ground.

John pushed forward, crawling on his hands and knees so he could feel as much surface as possible. His fingers were nearly numb from the cold. He wasn't entirely sure what he was touching anymore.

Hellboy finally got his feet between him and the kelpie and shoved the animal off. The kelpie's legs thrashed uselessly in the sky for a moment as he rolled onto his back. Taking advantage of the moment of weakness, Hellboy crashed his fist into the creature's ribcage. A muffled crunch spoke of the damage he'd caused. Despite that, the animal rolled and got up.

"Just cut a guy a break and die already," Hellboy groaned. "Seriously, you're pissing me off."

The animal hissed in response.

A hard object jabbed into John's knee as he put it down. For a heartbeat, he thought it was just a rock, but he reached back to close his hand over the wooden handle of Hellboy's gun. John leapt up and took aim with the bulky weapon. He had to use both hands to keep it steady since the barrel and ammo cylinder were so heavy.

Since it was faster than anything else was, John pushed a warning into Hellboy's head, 'Get down.' Instead of heeding it, Hellboy turned and held up his left hand.

"No, don't-" the demon started to say as John's finger tightened on the trigger.

The shot rang out with a massive boom that some cannons couldn't match. Recoil ripped through John's arms and the weapon bucked hard enough to toss his narrow frame to the dirt. His head cracked against the ground as he landed, but he somehow managed to hang onto the gun.

Blood exploded from the kelpie's back in a fountain. The animal's wretched screech was almost human. It echoed across the field, probably heard for miles. Before Hellboy could move in to finish the job, the kelpie slithered into what was left of the pond and vanished.

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The water sloshed back and forth. Hellboy watched it until it was completely still, panting from the exertion of the fight. He ached everywhere. He was going to need a little first aid and maybe some beer and then some well-deserved sleep. Giving up his guard on the pond for a few seconds, Hellboy scanned the meadow for Grom. The coward was nowhere in sight, which was annoying, but probably best. Hellboy wasn't going to get anything else from the pig and he didn't have enough patience left to try.

When he was positive the kelpie wasn't coming back, Hellboy went to John. The kid was sprawled on the ground, looking more than a little dazed. Tremors made the kid's body twitch, but he wasn't moving much otherwise. Hellboy knelt by his side and gently took the gun from his white-knuckled grip. The kick from the Samaritan was enough to take down a big human who was used to handling guns, so it had been a little much for John.

"Not bad for your first day of work, huh?"

John's dark eyes flicked towards him and a wry smile tugged at his mouth, "Technically, it's the second day."

"Yeah, close enough," Hellboy chuckled and shucked out of his coat. "Get out of the stuff that's wet and put this on," he said as he handed it to the kid.

John did as he was told, but moved as though he'd aged forty years in just a few minutes. Hellboy tried to give him as much privacy as he could by turning around, but he did sneak at least one glance. There was an ugly, purple-green bruise rising on John's wrist and more than a few new scratches and scrapes littering his pale skin. The way he was shaking made Hellboy wonder if he was going to be okay. He silently hoped that the heater in the truck worked.

"That… that thing, whatever it was, wanted some kind of bone. Does that mean anything to you?" John asked.

Hellboy pushed his hand into his pants pocket and pulled out the small triangle of bone he'd stashed there hours ago. Without thinking, he turned to show it to John, "I found this in- Oh shit, sorry." He broke off and whirled back around after catching an eyeful of John's bare back and ass.

A small thrill went through Hellboy, but he crushed it mercilessly. There was no need to cause unnecessary problems with the people he worked with so he'd made it a rule a long time ago never to peruse a relationship within the bureau. Plus, Hellboy wasn't daft. He knew he wasn't much to look at, what with all of his… oddities. He considered himself lucky if people didn't scream when they met him, so he was never actively searching for someone to sleep with. The kid had been joking a lot with him about it in the car, but Hellboy knew it couldn't be what he hoped it was. Knowing that made John's little quips sting.

He felt John come up behind him. The kid reached around to take the tiny bit of bone out of his hand. When Hellboy dared to look at him, he was relieved to see that John had slipped into his jacket. The duster was gigantic on the boy, nearly sliding off his shoulders even though he had it buttoned all the way up.

"This is what he wanted? It's so little," John wondered aloud, spinning the bone carefully between his thumb and index finger. "Why would they be after this?"

Hellboy shook his head, "I don't know yet."

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TBC…


	4. The Scars

I got this one pretty effectively edited through the first few pages, but beyond that I was typing out of a journal and trying to move quickly. I'll make changes as I find problems.

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Hellboy stood in the bed of the truck, holding his satellite phone skyward in the hopes that a signal would magic into existence the same way Fay wards did. John was tucked away in the cab with the heater going full blast. The kid still hadn't stopped shaking, but between the events of the last hour and the fact that he got soaked when it was freezing outside, Hellboy didn't expect him to stop anytime soon. He'd taken to dealing with supernatural creatures with a surprising grace. Or he just internalized everything. If that was the case, it wouldn't be long before it came back to the surface.

In the corner of the cracked screen (Hellboy couldn't remember how he'd broken it, but it was the third one he'd had in a year and Manning had cut him off) the signal bar flickered indecisively. Hellboy smacked the side of the phone with the palm of his human hand, cussing at technology in general. He hated technology. Anything more complex than a few gears and some grease just shut down when he got it in his hands. It could have been a demonic-energy-thing, but Hellboy doubted it. It was more likely to be a user-error-thing.

The passenger side door opened, sending a gust of hot air in Hellboy's direction, and John stuck his head out, "Are you sure it's calibrated correctly? I could adjust the settings."

"I got this."

"If I just-"

"You're letting all the hot air out of the cab. Shut the damn door," Hellboy griped, his tail curling in annoyance.

It wasn't the kid so much as the fact that the kid could probably make it work in a few seconds and it was Hellboy's phone. Kate had offered on numerous occasions to take him down to tech support so they could teach him how to use everything properly, but Hellboy adamantly refused. It wasn't a matter of pride, or at least it wasn't just his pride, it was that Hellboy didn't carry all the fancy crap that everyone else did. He scoffed at the idea of the GPS, rolled his eyes at the EMF detectors, and outright laughed at the suggestion that he should carry a laptop everywhere he went. It just seemed like a bit much. True paranormal investigation required a deep gut sense and a wide knowledge base. Kate was lucky that she could get him to carry the phone.

Hellboy heard the door shut, but instead of thrum of crickets, his ears focused on footsteps coming around the truck. With his arms crossed over his chest, John stopped at the tailgate and raised an eyebrow at him. The kid didn't follow instructions well and Hellboy had a decent suspicion that he never would.

Hellboy's hooves clicked on the metal bed as he walked to the end and jumped off. His glare was less than lethal, but only by a hair. "You're going to freeze to death. Get back in the truck."

John simply held out his hand, "The sooner you let me fix it, the sooner I get in the truck."

The kid's hair was still wet and the trembling that had started to fade was coming back quickly. He was making a decent effort to hide it, but Hellboy could see the involuntary twitches in the muscles of his neck and chest. It would be very easy to pick the kid up and force him back into the cab, though the idea was overly dramatic. After battling with himself for a few moments, Hellboy slapped the ugly, gray tough-phone into the kid's palm.

"There's no signal out here," Hellboy grumbled as he searched his pockets for a cigar or a cigarette. After a moment or two of groping uselessly in the pockets of his utility belt, he remembered that his cigars were in his jacket.

With his brow furrowed in concentration, John didn't look up from the phone when he said, "The idea of a satellite phone is that there's always a signal."

"Yeah? Tell that to the-"

John held the phone out with a slightly smug grin that made Hellboy's insides shift around, "You weren't aimed at the right satellite. I set it to auto-search for you."

Hellboy had to shove through the urge to pin the kid against the truck and devour that smirk before he could respond. Not entirely sure what John had said, he took the phone mutely. Four signal bars mocked him from the glowing, green screen, bringing his irritation back.

He glanced up from the phone, his mouth open to say something snarky, but John's expression killed his words. The kid's lips still had that amused curl to them, but there was something very intense in the depths of his eyes. Hellboy thought maybe the kid was leaning closer and realized that he was echoing the movement. Frantically, he wondered if he'd let something slip, if he'd broadcast his desires to the psychic.

John took a step towards him, his burning gaze locked on Hellboy's, making Hellboy's stomach tighten in a way that wasn't comfortable. He could lose himself so easily in that angelic face. But he didn't want to get lost, not when there was so much to do, not when the kid probably thought this whole situation was really fucking funny…

"I've got to call Kate," Hellboy growled, ignoring John's confusion.

He stepped back from the kid and turned away, punching the bureau's main number with his pinky because his other fingers were too big. The automated system clicked on and asked if he knew his party's extension. He wasn't paying much attention to it. Behind him, John was rooted in place. Hellboy could feel the kid's stare burrowing into the side of his head. He wasn't digging into Hellboy's thoughts, but he kept careful guard over them anyway.

By the time John went back to the truck, the automated phone system had circled through all of its options and asked, "Would you like me to repeat that?"

Hellboy winced as John slammed the cab door. Finally, he dialed Kate's extension. It rang four or five times and Hellboy started doing calculations on what time it would be in Connecticut. He didn't figure it out before Kate answered.

"Dr. Corrigan."

Hellboy took a breath to speak and noticed the lack of static on Kate's end. Overseas calls always had static. Brushing it off for the time being, Hellboy said, "I think we've got an ace in the hole. What do you know about the requirements for the Shade King resurrection? Does he need every piece of bone to come back?"

There was a lengthy pause and Hellboy could almost see Kate chewing on her lower lip while she thought, "There's not much I know about his resurrection, but I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Why?"

"Cause I just got attacked by a kelpie that really wanted his toe bone."

"It was a kelpie, they'll attack anything. How do you know he was after the bone?"

Glancing at John through the truck's back window, Hellboy was tempted to eat his own foot. He'd just shot it, so why not eat it too? "Well…" he stumbled without any real excuse prepared.

Kate caught on instantly, as she always did, "He's still with you, isn't he?" It wasn't much of a question, more of a condemnation.

Hellboy didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet. He though it was best not to dig himself into a deeper hole. It was already looking like a grave as is.

"You said he wasn't ready."

"I jumped to conclusions. He's got a shot with us. Besides, that transgression should've been in his file, so surely Manning knows about it. And don't you dare try to feed me the bullshit that he can't access medical files."

"Either way, he's not ready for something like this," Kate sighed. It was a tired sound. "I landed in Wells about an hour ago. I think what's best here is that you bring the bone and Mr. Myers back and we'll send them to the bureau for safe-keeping."

Hellboy wanted to say that she had to be the one to tell the kid he was going home, because Hellboy had already tried twice without any success. What he ended up saying was, "Alright. We'll probably stop at a hotel between here and there. I haven't slept."

"Can I expect you by lunch?"

"Yeah."

They exchanged a few parting words and Hellboy got in the truck. John didn't speak to him while he drove, but Hellboy wasn't in the mood to talk anyway. Even keeping to the main road, it took them almost an hour to find a bed and breakfast that wasn't shut down for the night.

The woman running the counter gave Hellboy an odd look, but didn't ask any questions. He paid in cash up front and she gave them two room keys. As they got upstairs, Hellboy made an attempt to reconcile with John, but the kid didn't respond with so much as a 'good night' before he slammed the door to his room.

Feeling drained, Hellboy slumped down to the other room, dumped his belt of equipment on the floor, and fell into bed. Sleep came instantly, but his dreams were less than pleasant.

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Hellboy woke to screaming. Adrenaline hit his bloodstream and he was completely alert by the time his feet touched the ground. His first thought was John. Hellboy darted to the hall, scooping his gun up from the pile of equipment by the bed as he passed. The lock to John's room gave way after giving resistance that Hellboy barely noticed. His gaze whipped around the room, searching for the threat. Nothing moved in the darkness, just the kid's thrashing shape beneath the comforter.

Feeling like an idiot, Hellboy lowered his gun and said, "Hey, kid." When he didn't stir, Hellboy raised his voice, "John."

The kid bolted upright in bed, his breath coming rapidly. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his hands gripped the sheets compulsively. John's eyes were glazed over with fear, his gaze distant but confused as though he didn't know where he was. As he calmed, John pressed his hands against his face.

Hellboy started to leave, but hesitated. The kid's nightmare had really shaken him. He was muttering something that was obscured by his hands, his narrow frame rocking back and forth slightly as he tried to get his wits together. Hellboy had the sensitivity of a rock, but he felt bad walking away.

Undecided on whether he should go comfort the boy or leave him be, Hellboy stood in the doorway and fiddled with the broken lock. The wood around the jam had splintered and the metal catch was hanging on by one loose screw. It squeaked as he pushed it back and forth.

"Hey, sorry about the door. It'll still latch, I think," Hellboy mumbled and scratched the back of his head. "You going to be alright?"

The kid didn't seem to hear him. When he slid his hands up over his forehead and into his hair, Hellboy could finally understand him, "She didn't stand a chance, not even with the priest, or the chains, or the… anything… he put her on the hooks, and… oh god, his eyes."

There was something painfully familiar about John's mumblings. It sounded a lot like the dream Hellboy was having before John's screams woke him up. Hellboy crossed the room, the click of his hooves muffled by an ugly, flower embroidered rug that was tucked beneath one of the bedposts. Making sure he gave the kid enough space, Hellboy sat near the foot of the bed with one leg tucked underneath him. His tail curled and twisted on the faded comforter.

"Her coffin was chained?" Hellboy pressed.

When John looked at him, he was still too bewildered to recognize Hellboy. The kid stared at him blankly for a moment before he dropped his hands in his lap. "What," he asked in a voice that wavered.

"You said that chains couldn't stop him. You're talking about the chains on the nun's coffin, right?"

"Yeah," John breathed.

"You're psychic even when you sleep?"

John looked away and muttered, "Trust me, I wish I wasn't."

It wasn't a dream. Hellboy experienced the horrible memory in his dreams regularly, but it was so much more than that. Every moment was burned into him like a brand. Hellboy still didn't understand why he'd been shown that bit of history, or who had enough power to bring him through to experience it. He'd gone to the ruins of a church because a psychic told him there were ghosts trapped there, but he'd also gone because it was the church where he had flashed into being out of living fire.

Maybe it was just an ugly memory that hung over that ancient church in New Bromwich, but Hellboy doubted it. Someone had wanted him to see. The only guess he had unsettled him because the answer was his father, his biological father. Not the man who raised and cared for him, it was the demon who came to claim his human mother after her death, to drag her into hell to birth his child… to have Hellboy.

She'd done everything she could to shake off her past as a witch and escape her promises to be the bride of the devil. She'd become a nun to hide from him. She'd chained her coffin closed. She had a priest and another nun standing watch over her coffin all night. Nothing stopped him. He came for her anyway. He rode into the church on a horse that breathed fire and had a mane of meat hooks. He sat tall in the saddle, his spiraling horns arcing nearly to the ceiling, his eyes burning, and his voice like rending metal.

He killed the priest and nun in a flash of fire. Their screams barely left them before they were dust. Chains crumbled and fell away. His father's burning gaze had fixed on Hellboy, though he'd seemed to be an omnipresent observer until that moment. His favorite son, he'd called him. Then Hellboy had to watch as the demon speared his mother on the horse's hooks.

Many years had passed since that evening in the church, but the memory still chilled Hellboy to the bone. The only other soul who knew was Abraham, and only because Hellboy needed to speak to someone about it. He hadn't wanted John to know, but it was proving to be impossible to keep anything from the kid.

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John rubbed at his wrist, studying the peeling paint on the windowsill. Exhaustion pawed at his mind like a hungry animal that wanted in. Sharing other people's dreams generally resulted in John being awake at odd hours. Normal dreams weren't broadcast the same way that nightmares were. When anyone within a mile of John had one, John did too.

He understood that Hellboy's wasn't a normal nightmare; it was something he'd experienced. Judging from the defenseless turmoil the demon's mind was in, he hadn't wanted John anywhere near that memory. Now that he'd seen it, Hellboy didn't know what to say or do.

The anger John had crawled into bed with was gone. Though Hellboy had rejected him, John didn't want to send him away. He didn't want to be alone with the lingering terror of the dream. John turned his arms over so the light spilling in from the hall caught on the ridges of scar tissue. The orange glow made them look like lines of magma. Hellboy's attention went to them instantly.

"Do you know what happens in a tiny town in Arkansas when a child says he can hear people's thoughts?"

Hellboy's brow dipped, casting a shadow across his eyes. He was quiet for a long time, long enough that John wrapped his arms around his chest to hide the marks. As he withdrew from Hellboy, the demon finally spoke, "I doubt they reacted well."

John shook his head, "My mother…" his voice cracked and he swiped a hand roughly across his nose. "My mother took me to see three different preachers and, when I started revealing things about her and them that nobody should know, she told the cops that I'd become wildly violent… she had me committed."

On the street below the window, a dog got into a fight with something. The growling and sharp, whimpering cries drew their attention away from the conversation. Hellboy got up and went to the window, peering out.

"He's got a possum, or something," the demon told him.

John looked to the door several seconds before the desk clerk poked her head around the corner. Her narrow face was pinched with concern as she studied the broken door, and then the two of them.

"Is everything alright, love? Heard some terrible screaming," her tone was thin and nasally, but genuinely worried. "Did the dogs wake you?"

John flashed her a weak smile that didn't reach the rest of his expression, "I'm fine, just a nightmare."

Her eyes flicked from the broken lock, to Hellboy, then back again. The demon stayed where he was, only his legs and part of his stone hand illuminated by the light from the hall. John didn't have to shuffle through her thoughts to know that Hellboy made her nervous. His reputation was apparently better received in America than it was in England.

John addressed her simplest worry, "We're sorry about the door. My friend thought I was in trouble. We'll be happy to pay you for the repairs."

She pulled her dusty pink cardigan tighter around her nightgown, still scrutinizing them as she said, "Let me know if you need anything."

Once her footsteps had faded, Hellboy went to shut the door. It scraped and groaned as he maneuvered it into the right position. Without the hall light, John was blind. If he waited long enough, his eyes would adjust to the moonlight coming in through the window, but he reached over to the end table and groped for the lamp. He nearly knocked it over in his attempts to turn it on. After some cussing, John's fingertips found the switch and yellow light flooded the room. Hellboy narrowed his eyes against the glare, his tail curling slightly.

The demon came back to the bed and John crossed his legs to give him more room to sit down. Hellboy looked at John and said, "You don't have to tell me this."

John's smile was so thin it broke before it could finish forming, "I… I want to."

"Because you feel bad that you found out some dark secret that I didn't want you to know?"

"No, because I want you to understand, so you know I'm not at risk to… to try it again."

Hellboy didn't ask what 'it' was, so John figured that he got the meaning.

John pulled a pillow into his lap and played with a loose thread near the opening of the case. He talked quickly, afraid he wouldn't finish if he didn't get it all out as soon as possible, "I probably don't have to explain why being a psychic in a mental hospital is a bad thing. The patients' thoughts were scattered, out of control. Some weren't so bad, but others made me feel like I shared their insanity." John paused to swallow down his rising panic. "If it was just one or two of them, I'd have been okay, but the ward I was in had thirty-nine patients… the nights were the worst."

John got a little lost in the memory. Color drained from his face as flashes of sporadic, warped thoughts from dozens of demented minds returned to him. A touch on his arm made him jump slightly. He blinked to find Hellboy brushing his arm with the back of his knuckles. The demon's concern existed almost entirely in his expression. He didn't voice it.

Determined to finish, John continued, "And because I couldn't acknowledge that I'd become violent, they wouldn't move my therapy forward. I got worse every day I was there until… until…" His resolve finally snapped and he tailed off.

"Until death was the only way out," Hellboy supplied.

John's haunted gaze raised to meet the demon's yellow eyes. The concern had been overshadowed by understanding. It gave John a little strength, "The moment I'd recovered enough, I broke out of the hospital they'd transferred me to, and I vanished."

"Why wasn't any of this in your file? It seems like Manning would have a problem with some of it."

"Do you have any idea how many John Myers there are in America, Hellboy?"

The demon arched one brow at him and sat back a little.

"I do," John said. "Close to four million. It wasn't nearly as obvious as calling myself John Smith."

"You changed your name."

"And thumbed my way to Vegas."

"Which is where Manning's boys found you."

John shrugged, "It was probably time for me to move on. I was starting to get the attention of security because I'm WAY too good at poker." His grin was still forced, but it was getting better.

Hellboy echoed it, exclaiming, "Unbelievable. How'd you get around Vegas without an ID?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"You need one to cash ou-"

John waved his hand dismissively and chuckled, "After all that and all you want to know is how I got around Vegas without an ID?"

"The rest of it is pretty self-explanatory. Your parents are backwater idiots, a nuthouse is a horrible place for a psychic, and you didn't want to go back after you'd finally found some peace and quiet. Am I missing anything?" Hellboy rumbled.

Blinking quickly, John finally shook his head, "I guess that pretty much covers it."

"Good," Hellboy slapped his shoulder lightly and got up. "I don't think either of us are going back to sleep, so why don't we get a move on?"

John leaned over to glance at the elaborate analog clock on the nightstand. He'd knocked it over in his blind search for the lamp, so he had to pick it up to read it. "It's four AM; do you really want to drive now?" By the time he rolled over to look back at the door, Hellboy was already gone. "Guess so," John muttered at the empty room.

He'd only just got out of bed when the demon came back and asked, "Hey kid, what's your real name?"

John paused with one hand outstretched to pick up his shirt. His first instinct was to lie. It had been at least a year since he'd said his own name out loud. He decided that Hellboy could be trusted with it, "Thaddeus. My family always called me Thad."

Hellboy nodded, looking very thoughtful, and then said, "I like John better."

For the first time in a long time, John's grin reached his eyes, "Me too."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chloe's battered kelpie cringed in human form at her feet. Wrath seethed from her pores, the kelpie could almost taste it when he kissed her calves and thighs. His hands shook as he timidly caressed the skin of her legs. His pleas for forgiveness would not be heard, Chloe only responded to groveling.

"Do you at least know where they took it?" she hissed, her flame-colored hair rising and dancing with her anger. Her black gown stirred, though there was no wind.

The kelpie shuddered, his entire body trembling with horror, "No, milady. I didn't see them leave."

Her foot connected with his jaw and he was grateful that she wasn't wearing shoes. The blow knocked him back, but didn't fracture anything new. Cackles and jeering filtered from the crowd at the edge of the standing stones. Dozens of Unseelie had flocked to the ancient circle of stones, with more arriving every day. No matter how numerous they got, they stayed out of the interior of the powerful circle as though held back by an invisible wall. They chanted and shouted from beyond the stones, always getting louder when Chloe did something violent.

At the center of the circle was a low, flat rock approximately the size and shape of a coroners' steel table. Hundreds of bones were carefully arranged on the surface, spread as they would've been if the owner was still alive. There was a beautifully elaborate crown perched on the skull's brow. Chloe adjusted the crown and leaned down to kiss the purple gemstone at the front.

Her gleaming eyes fixed on the kelpie like honed daggers, "I want the knight's heart."

Already on his knees, the kelpie bowed so deeply that his nose touched the grasses. He stayed that way as he backed out of the circle of stones. The seas of Unseelie parted to let him through. He disappeared quickly into the writhing mass of green, and black, and grey flesh. Some tried to lap at the dried blood, their razor teeth scraping on his back. He flared into his true form, rearing out of the mass with a warning scream. Dozens of Fay took flight to escape being pounded by his flailing hooves. The thrum of beating wings filled the night.

Chloe lifted her voice over the din of the creatures gathered in the vast field, "Bring me the knight!"

Three figures broke out of the crowd. They were stooped and hooded. Hands like tree branches peeked out of the folds of fabric that hid every other aspect of the creatures. They were scarcely taller than children, coming only to Chloe's waist. The red-headed princess knelt before them and gave a respectful nod before extending both hands to the head figure. Within the darkness of the cowl, a horned and creased face contorted into something like a grin. It more closely resembled a wolf baring its teeth in a snarl.

"He who served your father," came from the center being in a hiss.

The one to the right added, "Shall now serve you."

"In honor of the Court of Shade," the left figure finished.

The first brandished an elaborate black metal helmet with a large plume of inky hair. The second revealed a short sword. The third pulled out a small, three-pound stone in a flourish, placing it in Chloe's outstretched palm.

Chloe took the stone to the center of the circle. Setting it at the foot of her father's pedestal, she traced white fire on the earth with her fingertips. The symbols multiplied around the stone. Chloe worked at a feverish pace, sweeping her arms to create interconnecting lines that curled and spiraled in an intricate pattern.

As she stood, the stone began pulsing. Moving like living tissue, the two sides of the rock took turns contracting. Tendrils of grass snaked up the sides, encasing the beating stone in a fragile shell. Roots spread out from it in every direction. They doubled up on themselves until they were as thick and dense as corded muscle. The formed a torso, then spread out to become legs and arms. Crawling pieces of plant life became fingers and toes, the long strands of grass weaving and melding into a membrane of flawless, green skin.

When the form began to resemble a humanoid shape, the white fire raced from the confines of the symbols to grab onto the body. It burned without burning, the earthy shape swallowing the fire through its skin. A thin gash of mouth broke open and a small burst of flame licked the sky before the knight took his first breath.

Fluidly, the knight rose to his feet and faced Chloe. He tucked his arm across his chest and bowed, saying, "I'm here to serve."

Chloe held out her hand to allow him to brush his lips across her fingers, "And I am certain you will serve me as well as you did my father."

When he straightened up, he towered over the princess. His limbs seemed abnormally long in proportion to the rest of him. Each finger had an extra digit and his ears curved into a series of points that rose above the crest of his skull. In the center of his broad chest was the symbol of the Shade Court, burned there centuries earlier when he was made a knight of the king.

Chloe lifted the helm from the leader of the haggard trio. Delicately brushing the hair so it would sweep over the back of the helm, she offered it to the knight, "Go in my name and bring back my father's bone. You will find it with the demon of England or one of his companions."

He took the helmet, sliding it into place. The plating covered his narrow nose and high cheekbones, but left his dead, white eyes exposed. Thick vines erupted from his skin. They wove together and spread across his shoulders and chest, becoming as hard and solid as plate metal. Thorns as big around as Chloe's wrist sprouted on his shoulders and the line of his spine. They formed on the gauntlets and greaves too, hardening into the same metal-like state as the rest of the vines.

When the process was complete, Chloe gave him the short sword, "Kill all those who stand against us."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC…


	5. The Witch

Hellboy pulled up to the Wells Rose Water Inn at ten till eleven. He put the truck in park and looked down at John. The kid started the trip as alert as a bird dog with a mark, but exhaustion had caught up to him after a few hours. Though his nap began against the window, he'd slid against Hellboy's shoulder after a sharp turn and Hellboy never bothered to right him. If the kid was wearing his seatbelt, he wouldn't have fallen over so far.

After John kept shifting forward, Hellboy lifted his arm to let the kid sleep against his ribcage, holding him in place with his flesh hand. Hellboy didn't want to think about how strangely comfortable it was having the kid so close. Even after he'd shut the engine off, Hellboy sat in the truck and watched John sleep.

John's confession took him completely by surprise. His mind still tumbled over it as he wondered why the kid would admit something so personal. It took people a long time to warm up to Hellboy and he typically took an even longer time to warm up to them, but there was something different about this kid.

A lot of the agents at BPRD were misfits. They came from destroyed homes or lives, or had been persecuted for who and what they were, so John's history would hardly bother anyone. Hellboy guessed that what made John stand out was that his wounds were still fresh; he hadn't gotten a chance to harden like some of the others. It didn't seem like anyone had ever turned a friendly ear to the kid and it was showing in the way he was drawing close to Hellboy.

Hellboy did the math. John had graduated at sixteen, but hadn't appeared in Vegas as John Myers until a few months ago. Assuming the information he'd fed the bureau about his graduation was correct, then it was possible that he'd spend four years or more in the institution. There were too many holes in the story to be certain. He didn't think John was lying, but he didn't have enough information to put together a complete picture.

One of the bureau's jeeps was parked along the side of the inn. Kate must've brought it with her on the cargo plane. Unlike Hellboy, who liked to play off the cuff when he was working, Kate preferred to be prepared for any situation. If she thought she'd need a car, she brought one.

"Are we in Wells?" John asked, his words choked with sleep.

Hellboy pulled his arm away so the kid could sit up, and said, "Yeah, we're here."

Smoothing his hair unsuccessfully with one hand, John surveyed the parking lot blearily and turned to Hellboy, "Do we still have rooms? I need a shower."

"I think we do."

"Good." John slid out of the truck and Hellboy followed suit. As the kid leaned over the side of the bed to get his duffle, he said sheepishly, "I hope I didn't drool on you."

Hellboy reached over his to grab the bag, smirking as he slung it over his shoulder, "Maybe a little."

"I did not!" John denied, though his face flushed.

Chuckling, Hellboy went inside. Off to the right of the narrow lobby, there was a dining area with large windows that opened to the street. Sitting at one of the five tables with a newspaper spread out in front of her was Kate. She glanced up as they entered, giving Hellboy a smile.

Hellboy handed John his bag and motioned at the stairs, "Why don't you go get showered and changed?"

"Alright," John answered, leaning around to wave at Kate. He lowered his voice so only Hellboy could hear, "She's going to send me home, isn't she?"

"She's going to try, kid. You're not ready for this."

"But-"

"You may be ready to work for the BPRD, but you're not trained yet. Agents that have been with us for years wouldn't be prepared for something like this," Hellboy explained easily, reaching out to squeeze the kid's shoulder.

John studied his face, asking, "Do you think I can help you?"

"I think you could, but I also think you could get killed out here." The kid looked so determined that Hellboy sighed. He knew John wasn't going to give up. Whatever it was that the kid had to prove, he was trying to do it on this mission. Hellboy decided that fighting with him would be a waste of effort, "Alright, look. You duck when I tell you to duck, you run when I tell you to run. If you don't follow orders, I'm sending you to Connecticut, clear?"

"Clear," there was triumph in John's tone.

"Go clean up, you reek," Hellboy joked and watched the kid trot down the hall. Once he'd disappeared around a corner, Hellboy walked into the dining hall. He tossed the truck keys to the owner as he passed him at the bar, "Thanks. I put a full tank of gas in it for you."

"Right, I'll go get your deposit. She run well for you then?"

"She ran perfect. Got her a little muddy though."

The owner shook his head and gave a good-natured laugh, "She's a truck, not a lady. She doesn't mind a little muck now and again."

"Yeah, I guess," Hellboy grunted, motioning at the tables. "I'll be in the dining hall."

Halfway to the desk, the owner stopped and snapped his fingers as though he'd just remember something. "Can I get you some breakfast?"

"Full English would be great."

"And the other chap? Is he going to want something?"

Hellboy started to order a second English, but changed his mind. If the kid turned out to be a vegetarian or something, he wouldn't eat it. "He'll order when he comes back."

Hellboy eased into the chair across from Kate, not positive that the spindly thing would hold his weight. It groaned a little, but didn't buckle. She folded her paper and tucked it into her canvas bag, leaning on the table.

"Let's see this bone."

Straight to the point, as always. Hellboy dug the fragment out of his pocket and dropped it on the glass tabletop. It clicked and bounced across the surface before Kate trapped it beneath her cupped hand. Pulling out a small loupe, Kate examined the bone under magnification.

"Looks like an ordinary bone. Are you sure this is what he was after?" she asked, turning the bone over so she could scrutinize the other side.

"The kid's sure, so I'm sure."

She smirked and wryly commented, "Sounds like you two are getting along now. What changed?"

Hellboy slid down in the chair so he was slouching against the back, sticking his long legs out on either side of the table. He shrugged casually, "I guess I did. He just wasn't what I was expecting."

Kate looked up at him, silently asking him to elaborate.

"It's just… you said he scored so damn high on his IQ test-"

"Ridiculously high."

"Yeah, and I was expecting him to be more stuck up and opinionated. Like Jamison."

Kate finally lowered the loupe and leaned down to dig through her bag. "Jamison isn't nearly as bright as Myers," she said as she produced a small evidence envelope to put the bone into. Once it was tucked securely in one of the front pockets of her backpack, Kate went back to the cup of coffee sitting near her elbow. "You know, not every intelligent human being is pious and rude."

"Just a good chunk of them," he said, flicking a crumb off the table.

Swallowing her sip of coffee, Kate quipped, "A girl with a doctorate could take offense to that."

"Ha ha," his tone was light, but dry. "You know I don't mean you."

The owner came over with a tray covered in food and a yellowed envelope that he tucked between the salt and peppershakers. Hellboy hadn't realized how hungry he was, but as the smell of the sausage hit him, he was salivating. To keep himself from grabbing the food from the man, Hellboy picked up the deposit from the table and put his money away while the owner set out all of the plates.

The owner asked, "Can I get you anything else?" but Hellboy's mouth was too full to answer.

Kate sighed at Hellboy then turned a pleasant smile onto the man, "I think we're fine for now."

He nodded and left, leaving Kate to sit in silence while Hellboy shoveled food into his mouth. He went after the meat and beans first, pushing the various vegetables on top of the hash browns. The bacon was a little soggy, but everything else was cooked to perfection. Hellboy took his time to savor the black pudding because it was so hard to find in the states. It had been sliced and grilled, which was his favorite preparation.

After half the breakfast was gone, Hellboy finally slowed down enough to resume the conversation. "I want the kid to stay. He needs some field experience."

Kate opened her mouth, then closed it, eyeing Hellboy warily, "Did you come in contact with a maldrake?"

"My brain is fine."

"Are you sure, because you're not the same Hellboy. Seriously, how did you go from wanting to shove this prospective agent off at the nearest bus stop to wanting to lead him by the hand through field training?"

Hellboy shoved some mushrooms into his mouth, giving her a noncommittal grunt. Knowing her expression was probably somewhere between curious and amused, he didn't bother looking up from his meal.

"What's going on?" Kate asked.

She wasn't someone who didn't mind leaving a loose end. It was part of her charm, but her insatiable hunger for knowledge frequently got her into trouble. Kate would follow a trail of clues all the way into the waiting mouth of disaster.

Sticking a whole tomato slice in his mouth gave Hellboy a moment to decide what to say. After he'd swallowed, he offered, "He's got a lot of potential. I want to make sure he's trained properly."

She raised one carefully groomed eyebrow, "I know bullshit when I smell it, Red."

"He doesn't want to go back. I've tried."

"He doesn't have much of a choice. An order is an order."

Hellboy stared at her. Everyone at the bureau knew that trying to give Hellboy orders was like trying to get a bear to wear a party dress. He'd go where he was told to go and team up with whoever they sent with him, but beyond that, he made all his decisions in the field. Director Manning, just like his predecessor, had learned it was better to let Hellboy run his own show. He had too much experience for micromanagement.

"You want him to stay now just because I said that," Kate groaned and set down her coffee cup.

Hellboy went back to his food, scraping up what was left of the eggs, "The kid knows the dangers. If he still wants to stay in the field, then I've got his back."

Kate held up her hands in surrender, "All right, all right, but you'd better be the one to explain to Manning why you thought you needed to endanger an untrained recruit. My job ends and taking the bone back to the vault."

Hellboy could tell by her tone that he'd touched a nerve. She didn't understand his decision and was annoyed that he wouldn't explain himself. It wouldn't put a damper on their friendship or anything, but she'd be irritated until she left. He was anticipating it when she crossed her arms over her chest and the action made him smirk.

"What?" Kate griped.

Hellboy shook his head and started stacking his empty plates, "Nothing."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kate was getting ready to go when John made it to the dining area. He could tell instantly that her annoyed expression had something to do with Hellboy, but he didn't want to pry beyond it. There was no question that it was related to John wanting to stay and Hellboy standing behind his decision.

As he entered the room, Kate said, "I hope you understand what you're doing is reckless."

He didn't get a chance to say anything in his defense. Kate dropped the keys to the jeep on the table and said a curt 'goodbye' to Hellboy before strutting out the door. After she was gone, John sat down next to Hellboy, "She's pretty pissed."

"More worried than anything. That's just how she shows it."

They both watched Kate out the front windows until another BPRD jeep pulled up to get her. She cast one more look at Hellboy as she got into the vehicle and he lifted his hand to acknowledge her. John studied the empty plates on the table, his stomach groaning with pain as he searched for leftovers. There wasn't much left but smears of sauce and a few crumbs.

As though Hellboy shared his sixth sense, he mentioned, "I didn't know what you'd want, so I didn't order anything." The demon got up and the chair seemed to sigh as it decompressed. "I'm going to go clean up. Get something to eat and we'll leave in a bit."

"Where are we going now?"

"To see somebody else I know."

John's brow arched up, leaving faint worry creases on his forehead, "Somebody like Gruagach?"

"Sort of. She's a little more dangerous than he is, but you should have an easier time reading her. She'll probably know where the Unseelie are gathering."

John prickled with a mix of fear and anticipation. There was something like adrenaline that excited him, but his weighty common sense tried to tell him that he shouldn't live on the thrill of this kind of work. He pushed everything away and focused on the inn's menu as Hellboy wandered off. Settling on the least foreign meal on the menu, John still nixed anything that sounded strange to his American mindset. His order made the innkeeper laugh.

"First time in England?"

"Yes."

"Let me handle it. I'll bring you something you'll like," the man said jovially, taking the menu.

A simple plate of bacon, eggs, and toast arrived a few minutes later, which John eagerly dug into. He was almost done eating when Hellboy came back. The demon's black hair was still wet, slicked tightly against his head in the topknot he usually wore. It looked as though he'd rinsed his coat off in the sink. Most of the blood was gone, but it had already stained the camel-colored material. Water dripped slowly from the duster's hem where Hellboy stopped, a pool forming beneath his feet.

"Come on kid, we've got to get going," the demon said.

John stuck the last piece of toast in his mouth and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. As he chewed, he suggested, "I should take a look at those bites."

"You a doctor now?"

They stepped outside and Hellboy slipped a cigar into the corner of his mouth. Striking a match on his stone arm, he touched the flame to the cigar and took a few short drags to get it burning. Once he'd put the match out, he walked towards the BPRD jeep. John followed at his heels.

"If you don't keep them clean, you could get an infection."

Hellboy climbed into the driver's side door, momentarily disorienting John. The jeep was set up for driving in the states and they'd just spend most of the previous day in an English car. It only took him a second to start for the other door.

"Don't worry about it, I heal fast," Hellboy explained as John got in the car.

The demon pulled the lapel of his jacket aside so John could see the puckered scab on his neck from the kelpie's attack. It looked as though it had been healing for a week or more, not a few hours. John touched the scab delicately, amazed that a wound so large could shrink so quickly. He sat back and was acutely aware of his own aches. Wishing that he had the demon's ability to heal didn't make the pain fade any.

This time, Hellboy went north. The drive was long and Hellboy spent most of it asking John questions. John was tempted to throw the 'twenty questions game' comment back at the demon, but decided that he didn't mind the curious exploration. He could feel Hellboy trying to put something together in his mind, most of his inquiries aimed at John's teenage years.

John knew exactly what discrepancy Hellboy was hammering out. John had been put into the asylum at sixteen, taken a piece of sharp plastic to his wrist at seventeen, but only appeared in Vegas under the name John Myers approximately ten months ago. Since he'd told Hellboy he was twenty-two, there was a lot of time unaccounted for. When he started answering repeats of questions, John finally took pity on Hellboy and gave him the last puzzle piece.

"I'm not twenty-two."

Hellboy shot an edged glance at him, "What do you mean?"

"Your timeline is right, you're just missing the fact that I'm not actually twenty-two."

John's stomach tightened as Hellboy pulled the jeep off the road. The lie about his age had been circling his head from the moment he'd let it leave his mouth and he was terrified that it would be the one thing that would get him sent home. Hellboy put the jeep in park and turned in the seat so he could fix a hard stare on John. John focused on the creases of his jeans, following the lines on the faded denim with his fingertips as Hellboy studied him.

Finally, the demon growled, "How old are you?"

"I only lied about it because I was afraid that-"

"How old?"

John bit his lip hard enough that he tasted blood, "I thought the bureau wouldn't let me work for them if-"

"Stop dancing around it. Tell me how old you are or I'm taking you back to the airstrip."

"Nineteen," John breathed and tentatively looked up at Hellboy.

The demon's expression was as blank as his carefully guarded thoughts. Surprise eased out of the blockade, but little else. John was beginning to hate the impeccable control Hellboy had over his mind. He wanted to know what the demon was thinking. He needed to know.

When Hellboy stayed quiet, John shifted uncomfortably in his seat and scrubbed the back of his head with his nails. "Say something," he pleaded.

The demon's baritone was heavy with disapproval, "Are you really nineteen, or are you still lying to me?"

"I'm really nineteen."

Pushing one stone finger against John's chest, Hellboy stated, "I don't like being lied to."

"I understand," John mumbled, feeling as though he was drowning in guilt.

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, giving himself a few years so the bureau wouldn't think he was still a child, but he didn't imagine it would backfire so magnificently. He wanted Hellboy to understand so he'd stop glaring at John as if he'd just admitted he was a Nazi or something else as horrible.

Hellboy dropped back against his seat and grumbled, "Jeez, you really are just a kid."

John grit his teeth. It was that thought that made him lie to begin with. The moment he admitted to someone that he was still a teenager, suddenly he was viewed as an infant that needed a babysitter, not a potential agent that needed a mentor. If his mother hadn't derailed his life, he would've been ready to graduate college in the next year and probably move on to upper-level studies. He'd never felt his age, often acting so mature as a child that he completely isolated himself from other students.

"I'm not a child," John insisted.

"Yeah kid, you are."

"I am not, and I think I've earned a little more respect than that. I lied because I didn't want people assuming that I wasn't capable of doing this job. You're just giving my theory credence." It pleased John that Hellboy turned away and actually thought about what he said. He gave the demon a moment to mull, then asked, "How old were you when you started doing this kind of work?"

Hellboy shook his head with a snort, "That doesn't count. I age differently than you do."

"Tell me."

"I was twelve, but I already weighed two-seventy-five and could bench press three-hundred pounds."

"Well," John chuckled. "I'm never going to be able to bench press three-hundred pounds, doesn't matter whether I'm nineteen or thirty or fifty."

Hellboy smiled at that and agreed, "I guess that's true." The demon put the jeep back into drive and pulled out onto the quiet road. John had just started to relax when Hellboy said, "You'd better not lie to me again."

"Scout's honor."

"Yeah, I'm going to hold you to that, Scout."

"Please don't call me that. It makes me think of _To Kill a Mockingbird_."

"Would you prefer Boyscout?"

"No."

"Too bad, it's already stuck."

John groaned.

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It was well past one-o'clock when Hellboy pulled into their destination. He turned off the pavement onto a gravel road forked off of the main road. It twisted off into tightly grouped stands of trees. The road was rarely traveled and it was made evident by the thousands of weeds and flowers that poked up through the rocks. It had been nearly fifteen years since the last time Hellboy had come out this way, but it didn't look like much had changed in that time. If memory served him well, which it usually did, the gravel road disappeared after a few miles and actually led away from the cottage they were trying to reach.

Hellboy parked the jeep a few feet off the gravel and got out, "We walk from here."

"But the jeep is designed for off-roading. I think it can handle-"

"I don't want her to hear us coming."

"Oh," John mumbled as he slid out of the passenger side. The kid jogged to catch up with Hellboy when he motioned for him. "Should I be learning how to use a gun?"

"We've still got to get you a gun," Hellboy said and slipped a friendly arm over the kid's shoulders.

Hellboy inwardly groaned when he thought the word 'kid'. Nineteen was too young, too young to work at the bureau, too young for Hellboy to consider chasing, but he was having a hard time being convinced of it. Liz had been brought into the bureau when she was around ten, though she hadn't started working as an agent until she was in her twenties.

Nineteen was beyond the age of consent in every state, but Hellboy still felt a bit like a pedophile. Though he didn't look it, Hellboy was well into his sixties and there was no way a kid so young should ever be with someone like him. Kids John's age should be meeting people in college and getting wrapped up in their first real romance, not traipsing around the backwoods of England looking for a witch that would probably eat them if she managed to kill them.

John slipped out from under his arm and turned to stand in Hellboy's path, "Will you stop that!"

Hellboy went around him, kicking himself for letting his mind wander. Even though he knew exactly what John was talking about, he played dumb, "Stop what?"

"Kids my age look at me like I'm a freak of nature so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop lumping me in with them."

Hellboy kept moving. Scanning the trees for possible threats seemed like a much better idea than looking back at the kid. John was probably right, that he was mature enough to handle anything the bureau threw at him, but Hellboy worried anyway. If he hadn't been almost as indestructible at twelve as he was now, he never would have made it through the early years of his career.

John's voice was strong enough to make Hellboy stop in his tracks, "And I think I should be the one to choose who I want to be with."

Wondering if the kid was serious about wanting him, Hellboy turned to face him. The boy's expression was just as determined as it was when he'd said he wanted to stay to finish the mission. Instead of addressing it, Hellboy flipped his thoughts back to the mission, "I'd rather if she didn't know you were here, so I want you to wait outside."

Confusion swept over John's resolute features. When Hellboy started walking, John hurried to catch up, saying, "Wait a minute, what about-"

The territory he was in was too dangerous for Hellboy and he didn't know how to maneuver without doing something he'd regret. Hellboy only needed one hand to count up how many sexual partners he'd had in his life and he didn't need any hands to count up the ones that could put up with him for more than a few months. Liz liked to say that Hellboy had been burned a few times, but everything was fire with Liz.

"We're not discussing it," Hellboy snapped.

John grabbed his sleeve, "But-"

Pushed to his limit, Hellboy whirled on him and leaned forward to growl, "You don't know what you're asking, so knock it off. Last warning, kid."

For the first time since he'd met the boy, John's eyes took on an innocent bewilderment as if Hellboy had just broken his favorite toy and laughed about it. It was gone in a flash of defensive hurt that Hellboy didn't like. John pushed him back with a scowl and put a few yards between them.

Hellboy stood where John left him, watching the kid pace sporadically through the trees. He wanted to help the kid understand why it wouldn't work, that there was age, and gender, and species to consider, but any one of those things had never stopped Hellboy before. He'd just had it go wrong too often. The kid was hotheaded and Hellboy was undoubtedly attracted to him, there was just no way it could last. Eventually, whatever John saw in Hellboy would be forgotten, or would get old, and the kid would take off.

Glancing around to get his bearings, Hellboy started in the direction of the cottage. The kid followed at a distance and Hellboy let him. When the smoke from the chimney was visible, Hellboy crossed over to John and pulled him down into a crouch. The kid gave him a deadly glare that Hellboy ignored.

"I want you to keep as quiet as possible and get close enough to the house that you can sort through her thoughts. She's going to lie to me, but you should be able to glean what we need to know."

John shrugged his hand off his shoulder, "Alright, I got it."

"Stay out of sight."

The kid stressed each syllable as he hissed, "I got it."

Hellboy got up thinking he was going to have to have a serious talk with the kid before the end of the mission. For the time being, he edged out from between two oaks and left John to do his job. His tail was curling and twisting in agitation, so he focused on stilling it. That was one thing Dagdea would pick up on.

Like the road, not much had changed about the cottage in fifteen years. The stone front was covered in vines so thick that it looked as though it was made of living materials. Narrow windows peeked out of the leaves, too dark to see inside. The thatched roof was unkempt and the vines had made their way all the way to the redbrick chimney. Here and there, wild blown seeds had taken root in the wooden roof, sprouting into stunted plants. If Hellboy didn't know better, he'd think the cottage was abandoned.

He didn't have to knock. As he was coming up the cobblestone path, the door eased open. He ducked through the low jam and curled his tail against his legs so it wouldn't get caught when the door slammed shut. The first thing he noticed was that her collection of hands had grown. They hung from the ceiling at various levels, all withered and all human. Bound to the ceiling by lengths of twine tied at the wrist, the curled fingers reached down to the floor desperately. Every so often, one would twitch or stretch in the dim light from the fire.

A few of them bumped against Hellboy's head, sending an involuntary shiver across his frame. A particularly large hand scrabbled to grab onto one of his horns, the nails scraping across the stump. He swatted it away.

The old, stooped woman at the fire was as withered as the hands dangling from her ceiling. Her face looked more like leather than skin, darkened by centuries of life that were not natural for a human. She was stirring a large pot that was suspended over the fire on a metal hook. Whatever it was smelled like food, not a spell. Witch's magic had a certain odor to it that Hellboy would be able to recognize from miles away. It always had this hot ozone tinge to it, like the smell copper gets when a massive amount of electricity pours through it. The contents of the pot had the savory aroma of beef stew.

"You come about the Shade King," Dagdea said simply, hitting the wooden spoon on the side of the pot.

Each loud metallic bang made the hands flinch. Their skin was as thin and dry as old paper and their movement whispered like dead leaves in the wind. Dagdea set the spoon down on a table behind her and turned to Hellboy. Her lips didn't quite meet over her large, gray teeth, making it look as though she was constantly sneering. What little hair she had draped in thin, white strings across her leathery features.

As far as Hellboy could guess, she was almost six-hundred years old. She'd been around for the rise and fall of hundreds of kings, both Fay and human alike. There were few creatures in England that knew as much as she did. Though she was a threat to anyone who came near her, she didn't seek out people to kill, mostly keeping to herself. Her darkest habit was collecting the hands of the dead, so BPRD had decided in the sixties that she wouldn't be a target unless she did something to jeopardize human lives.

"If they wake him up, everything is going to change. I need to know where the Unseelie are gathering," Hellboy said.

Dagdea shuffled past him slowly, barely picking her feet up enough to move. "You know I don't work for free, demon."

She went to a wall to the right of front door. It was lined with shelves that were covered in opaque jars and bottles. When the fire flared in just the right way, Hellboy could see cloudy shapes within the colored glass, but he didn't want to know what they were. Dagdea ran one hand over the faded, curling labels, moving her lips with the words written there. She made a pleased sound and picked up a squat jar that might've been used for canning in a regular home. She unscrewed the lid and held the jar out to Hellboy.

"Spit," the witch ordered.

Hellboy worked up some saliva in his mouth, but asked, "What are you going to do with it?"

"Nothing that will threaten your precious mortals, or you."

He cleared his throat and spit into the glass, wrinkling his nose at the action. The witch quickly twisted the lid back on and set it on the highest shelf she could reach, sandwiching it between a tall green bottle that was glowing slightly from within and a clear glass container with a tarantula living in it. Hellboy eyed the gigantic spider, tapping the side of the jar so it would shrink away from the glass.

"Ask your questions," she grumbled as she lowered herself into a high-backed chair.

Hellboy left the spider alone, "We know they're resurrecting the Shade King, we just don't know where or what else they need to bring him back."

With a cackling call, a one-eye crow dove from its hiding place in the open rafters. Instinctually, Hellboy ducked as it swooped by him, though it didn't have its talons extended for an attack. It glided across the room and perched on the witch's chair, scratching the upholstery as it got settled.

Dagdea smiled and smoothed the animal's feathers, "They need all the bones and a Fay strong enough to harness and speak the wild magic. His resurrection must take place during the witching hour on the darkest night of the month."

"You're talking about the new moon."

She nodded, her head looking like it might break off her narrow neck with the movement. Above them, the dried hands rustled. "The moon must be covered in shadow."

The new moon was in five days, it gave them a little time to search, but not much. As long as they kept the last bone out of Fay hands, they would have more than that. Hellboy assumed that they already had a Fay powerful enough to enact the ancient rights, probably the same one that took the bones from the crypt. If they were strong enough, or cunning enough, to get the iron box open without being destroyed, then they could certainly handle the resurrection. Hellboy just wished he had a face or a name to hunt.

"What about the Shade Court? Where are they gathering?"

Hellboy's nerve-endings prickled as the witch and the bird cackled together. He was missing something and that something was very ominous. His hand went to his gun before he even realized he was doing it, his fingers wrapping tightly around the wooden stock. The smooth, familiar texture was only a minor comfort.

"I would not be concerned with the Unseelie at this moment, demon," the witch chuckled, running her bony fingers through the bird's feathers. "I hope your human companion knows to stay away from mushroom circles."

Her laughter chased Hellboy outside.

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TBC…

Okay, so I know a few of you already thought John was a little young and now he's even younger… He's very mature for his age… don't kill me. And don't worry, they'll get to the relationship soon.

Also, Dagdea is not from the comics, she's an OC you might or might not see again. I haven't decided yet, but I'm already fond of her.


	6. The Court

We've jumped up to M or XXX or whatever rating means 'very dirty'. Mostly unbetaed. Forgive my mistakes.

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"What are you doing?"

John glanced up to find a very young, blonde child giving him a quizzical look. She was dressed in a knee-length pink dress and was running around barefoot despite the overgrown nature of the garden. While John studied her, she picked her way through the untended flowerbeds and leaned to look in the window he was crouched under.

"I'm, ah…" John couldn't think of something that would satisfy the curious mind of a child.

Before he could fabricate anything good, she straightened up and grinned at him, "I know she's a bit odd, but my da says that Mrs. Dagdea is a harmless old lady." The little girl's round face glowed with pride to be repeating her father's words.

"She's a lovely woman," John fumbled, his mind mostly trained on the witch's inner workings. "I'm just… pulling some weeds for her."

The low hum of Hellboy's voice came through the cottage's walls, but John only got shadowed images from the witch. The most prominent image was of a circle of stones with long, lithe figure standing in the midst of them. John tried to pull the thought closer, to see the figure's face, but the little girl was tugging on his jacket.

"Mrs. Dagdea never had a gardener before. Where are your tools?"

He gently removed her tiny hands, distractedly murmuring, "I'm working. Why don't you go play?"

The image of the standing stones flickered. John honed on it, bringing it back into focus. Inside the circle of stones was a woman. She had her hands raised to the sky, mounds of bright red hair curling down her back. John tried to turn the thought so he could see the woman's face. Everything was in such deep shadow.

"Mister."

Laid out at the woman's feet were the bones of the king. The bones burned with a white flame.

"Mister," the little girl grabbed hold of his hair and pulled.

The images shattered, lost to the witch's control. Without her thinking about them directly, John could only drag them out by force and the person he was digging into always noticed. John grumbled a few distasteful words under his breath and turned a glare onto the child.

He managed to keep his voice level, despite his raging urge to yell at her, "What is it?"

The little girl's expression had crumbled since he'd first looked at her and now tears were brimming along the edges of her big, green eyes, "There's something wrong with my sister."

In the quiet, John caught the faints sounds of a child wailing. It wasn't the kind of cry a child used when they were throwing a fit, or needed something; it was the kind that had the ring of pain to it. John scrambled to his feet. He glanced back at the cottage, but took the girl's chubby fingers in his.

"Where did you see her last? Can you take me there?"

She darted through the garden and into the trees, John following after and doing his best not to step on the back of her bare feet. They pushed through trees and underbrush, all the while, the child's screams got louder.

The little blonde called out to her sister, her fear evident in her tone, "Jacqueline! Where are you?"

"Jacqueline?" John shouted, pushing aside the branches of a bush and urging the girl through.

With the volume of the cries, John swore that they should be standing next to the injured child, but he still couldn't see her. The tiny blonde rubbed at her face with her fist, her body trembling with quiet sobs. When she sat down to wail, John scooped her up and braced her on his hip.

He yelled again, "Jacqueline!"

John searched the trees frantically with both his eyes and his mind. He could hear the screaming girl, but he couldn't sense her. There was no pain, or fear in the forest ahead of them. There were no thoughts, just silence. John's lips parted slowly as he stopped walking. He looked down at the child in his arms, his heart picking up speed when he realized that he wasn't getting any thoughts from her either. Her mind was a void.

The little girl turned. Though her face was still streaked with tears, it was twisted into a wicked smile, "What's the matter, mister?"

John let her go as though her body delivered a random shock. He stumbled backwards, his feet catching on a rotting log so he fell into the leaves covering the forest floor. The girl got up from where he'd dropped her, still smiling.

In the distance, the wailing melted into a keening cackled that made the hair on John's arms stand on end. His eyes locked on the child that was not a child, John backed away from her without climbing to his feet, too afraid to look away. She kept pace with him, taking a step forward to mirror each of his movements.

"Do you not like my game? I could come up with a different one," she said smoothly, her childish demeanor sliding in place. "I'm not here to hurt you."

Hellboy's panic crashed across John. Either the demon had realized he was missing, or something was going on at the cottage. John hoped it was the former. Remembering the pendant could have been John's doing, but he didn't think it was. It flashed through him like wild inspiration. John reached beneath his shirt and whipped the necklace over his head, holding it out towards the child.

The girl's chubby features morphed, revealing hard, glittering silver eyes and rows of needle-like teeth. She growled and dropped to all fours, snapping, "Iron cannot protect you forever. It will rust and fade away."

John scrambled upright, thrusting the amulet towards the creature. Snarling, she charged forward, but feinted to the side before John could touch her skin with the metal. He jumped away from her attack, careful to keep the amulet between them. She lunged again and narrowly missed swiping her steadily lengthening claws across his abdomen.

Hellboy's voice cut through the trees, "Where are you, kid?"

John opened his mouth to shout back, but someone else cried out in his voice, "I'm here." It was farther off, to John's left. Before John could warn Hellboy, the imposter called again, "I think I got a little turned around."

"Don't wander off like that," Hellboy groused.

"No, that's not-" John started to say, but the child-monster leapt out of her crouch and slammed into his chest.

He fell to the ground and kept falling, the leaves flowing up around him like a deep, murky lake. A clawed finger caught the pendant's chain, ripping it free from his hand. Even once he'd been completely enveloped by the earth, his freefall continued. His scream echoed only in his own ears.

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The forest felt wrong. In most forests, the trees were separated so they didn't have to compete for light, but these trees were grouped so closely that their roots had to be intertwined. They leaned into each other, as if they were conspiring. It left the world beneath the foliage very dark and uninviting. Hellboy had no doubt that it was a Fay forest. If he stood still enough, he could probably hear them.

Hellboy kept his hand on his gun as he picked his way towards John's voice. He was more than a little annoyed that the kid would wander off. They were in the middle of a job, so there had to be a really good excuse for him to go for a walk. If he wasn't pulling a crippled child from a burning building, Hellboy might scream at him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Hellboy shouted, turning his head so he could use the answer to pinpoint John's location.

"Don't you dare laugh. I… I got lost."

Heaving a sigh, Hellboy pushed through some thick bushes. The dead leaves beneath his feet made it impossible to be quiet. He was glad he wasn't trying to hunt anything. "Why'd you go that way? I had you lined up, facing the damn cottage."

A twist of thorny vine snagged the tip of his tail. Hellboy cussed and stomped on the offending plant. He grabbed his tail and slid it through his hand until he found the cut. It wasn't deep.

"Seriously, do you have the worst sense of direction in the world?" He growled as he kept moving. After a few more yards, Hellboy began to feel that he should've reached John already. The kid's voice had been very close, too close for Hellboy to have missed him. "Talk, sing, make some noise so I can find you."

"I don't know what to say," John's disembodied voice seemed to come from one direction, but as Hellboy moved towards it, it shifted direction and came from behind him. "I'm not much of a singer."

Hellboy froze. He closed his eyes, listening intently for the sound of John's footsteps. There was no sound in the forest. There were no bugs, no birds, nothing. Hellboy looked up into the branches of the closest tree. A handful of goldfinches peered down at him with more intelligence than wildlife should have. Hellboy encountered the phenomena frequently, but only wherever powerful supernatural forces thrived. It was as though the local animals absorbed some of the energy and became something else.

He got a lot of good advice from birds, less so from things that lived on the ground. Foxes always led him in circles and he didn't even try talking to rabbits anymore, the only thing they talked about was how imminent death was.

"Hey," he addressed the small, colorful birds. "Have you seen a human come through here?"

"The human passed through," one chirped, "But-"

"Hush," hissed another as it flared its wings and hopped towards the first bird.

The first one tilted its head to the side, the red on its face catching in the dappled sunlight, "They won't hear, they're busy."

"Busy with what? With the human?" Hellboy interjected, alarm filling his voice.

The second bird huffed as though offended and flit to another branch, but Hellboy didn't give it much attention. As long as he had one that was willing to talk to him, it was all he needed.

Somewhere to his right, John's voice called out to him. Hellboy had a strong suspicion that it was a first-class mimicker known as a Gresh. Though they were talented, Gresh were stupid creatures that had no language of their own. They could only speak in the voices of others. It wouldn't know where John was. Even if he did find it, it would disguise itself as a rock, or log until he left.

"I need to know where the human is."

After only a moment's hesitation, the bird darted through the trees. It flew quickly, but stopped often so Hellboy wouldn't lose track of it. Hellboy ran beneath it, glancing down briefly so he would run into anything. He dodged around tree trunks and large rocks and leapt over a thick trail of mud that might have been a stream once. If the forest indeed belonged to the Fay, Hellboy knew there was a dam further upstream that was blocking the flow of water.

As they crested a small rise, the bird left the canopy and landed on a boulder. Hellboy's eyes shot around the area, then down to the circle of mushrooms poking out of the leaves. The bright white caps were like small icebergs in the sea of red and gold and brown. Drag trails led into the circle, vanishing in the center.

A gleam of light made Hellboy kneel at the edge of the Fay ring. He pushed aside some of the crumbling leaves with the back of his fingers and picked up the iron pendant he'd given John. A clod of dirt obscured a few of the symbols. Frowning, Hellboy slid his thumb across the surface to knock the dirt loose. The polished metal caught what little sun there was as he turned it over in his hand.

"Damn it, John," he mumbled and tucked the necklace into a pouch on his belt.

The goldfinch flicked its wings nervously, "Seen many humans go down, but they never come back up."

"Yeah, thanks," Hellboy tossed a half-eaten granola bar at the bird. It bounced off the rock and rolled across the ground before the animal hopped over to pick at it.

The Fay ring was larger than any Hellboy had encountered before. If he lay down in the middle, his feet and head wouldn't touch the mushrooms on either side. From what Hellboy had learned of magic circles over the decades, size and mushroom color typically dictated what sort of Fay had put the circle in place. White pointed towards the Seelie, but the fact that the mushrooms were almost a foot tall made Hellboy think that they belonged to a powerful creature. Seelie royalty was the most likely bet.

As much as he didn't want to deal with some snobbish prince or duke, it was much better than the alternative. At least royalty could be bargained with, other types of Fay would keep John no matter what sort of deal Hellboy tried to strike. Although, he didn't have much to bargain with, he didn't have the time to find something they'd want. The longer he waited, the more likely it was that John would ingest something he shouldn't, or get pulled under some spell.

Hellboy stepped into the center of the circle, muttering a phrase in Gaelic to ensure that the Fay magic cooperated in taking him where he needed to go. The ground gave way beneath him. It didn't feel like falling, more like drifting or floating. If Hellboy hadn't experienced it before, it might've been unnerving, but he knew his feet would touch the ground eventually.

His eyes stayed fixed on the darkness below him while he traded the rounds in his gun for solid iron bullets. Leaves tumbled in both directions around him. Brown and gold leaves fell with him, but white and silver ones curled and fluttered upwards like wounded butterflies.

As the ground materialized in the darkness, the leaves changed into small white birds that flashed through the air. One slapped into a corner of Hellboy's jacket and exploded into a thousand pieces of drifting pollen. The others swirled away, hurtling into the murkiness above Hellboy's head to become the rising leaves.

Hellboy's hoof scraped against the earthen floor. Bell-like laughter found his senses first, and then the faces swam into focus. Slowly, a large, decadent room emerged from the shadows. It was filled with hundreds of Fay, their deceptively human features too beautiful to be the men and woman they posed as. Here and there, mortals were mixed in. Most of them were too dazed by Fay magic to realize what was going on around them. They sat in Fay laps and lingered like dogs at Fay feet. Hellboy scanned the humans, but didn't find John among them.

The din in the room broke apart as moon-shaped faces and perfect almond eyes turned to Hellboy. He pulled his gun free from the holster, the creak of the leather like thunder in the silent room. There were so many more Fay than he'd been expecting. He exhaled and set his jaw, determined to keep his nerves hidden. One powerful Fay was trouble, but this many could make him disappear between the layers of the world.

Hellboy moved into the room and the Fay parted around him. They were dressed in everything from modern tuxes and cocktail dresses to Elizabethan ball gowns that kept them from huddling too close together. Hellboy wondered what the occasion was until he saw the platform at the end of the great hall. A dozen stone steps rose from the floor to a circular dais that was covered by white fabric, and then further up to an elaborate throne filled by an even more elaborate woman.

Her gown made all the others look like donation center rejects. The gold and deep purple fabric was lined with gemstones, the crisscross brocade at her chest dotted at the center of every 'x' with a perfectly shaped pearl. Though it didn't seem possible, her features were even more delicate and ethereal than the other women in the room. Her reflective eyes were lined with gold powder and her mouth was a tiny bow shape that managed to look amused even when the rest of her expression was blank. Hellboy didn't have to spot the spindly metal crown seated in her nest of curls to know who she was.

The Seelie Queen arched one narrow brow at him, resting her chin on a hand that looked too long. It occurred to Hellboy after a moment that she had an extra digit on each finger. Beside her, a man in black armor had a hold of John's hair. He had John on his knees at the base of the queen's throne. The kid was gripping the knight's gauntlet with both hands, his panicked eyes stuck on Hellboy.

"And what brings the demon of England into my court?" the queen asked jovially, smirking as she spoke. "Though you have touched our existence more than once, you've never graced me with your presence."

Hellboy walked forward cautiously, casting his gaze around the masses for any signs that they were going to attack. "You took a mortal that belongs to me," he motioned at John with his stone hand to clarify.

The queen rose to her feet and all of her subjects dropped into a bow in unison. The sudden movement made Hellboy's fingers twitch around the stock of his gun. His tail curled as the queen shooed the knight away from John. The knight stepped to the side, taking one knee like the others.

She turned and innocently asked, "This human?" The kid flinched away when she reached to brush some hair behind his ear. "This stained creature does not bear your mark, how were we to know he was yours?"

Hellboy ignored the sweat rolling down the back of his neck. "Trust me, he's mine."

"Well, this was a grievous mistake on our part," she exclaimed, flinging one of her long hands through the air. Her intricate jewels clinked together with the movement.

Though she seemed genuinely apologetic, something in Hellboy tightened with uncertainty. The Fay would've seen them coming through the forest together; they had to know that John was with him.

"You will have to forgive this oversight. He will of course be returned to you," the queen went back to her throne, allowing all of her subjects to stand as she took her seat.

John stayed where he was. He looked to the queen, then to Hellboy, and back again. Hellboy wanted to tell him to get his ass in gear, but he was still waiting for something catastrophic to happen. His guts were telling him that the queen was going to pull the rug out from under them. He just wasn't sure how she was going to do it and that was what made him nervous.

Hellboy came to the base of the stairs, putting one foot on the first step. The muscles in his left arm twitched and jumped with tension, more than ready to raise his gun if the queen so much as hiccupped. "Come on, kid," Hellboy ordered.

John scrambled to his feet and ran down the first set of stairs. As he reached the landing that was covered in cloth, he staggered to a stop with a strangled groan. Before Hellboy could even call his name, the kid collapsed in a heap of trembling flesh. Hellboy darted forward.

"Kid?"

He bent to pick the boy up, but his foot reached the top step and a sensation bolted through him. It roared up his spine, rebounded at his brain and settled in his cock. He hardened instantly, his body temperature rising faster than that of a lobster that just hit the cooking pot. Hellboy swallowed, but had to force it down. His muscles didn't want to cooperate. Laughter rippled through the room behind him and the queen's smile twisted with something dark.

Hellboy managed to slide the cloth away with his foot. Underneath the velvet were symbols he only half recognized. He was struggling to process them when John rolled to look at him. The kid's breath was coming hard and fast and his skin was flushed, his pupils blown wide with lust. The look alone would've broken Hellboy's focus on the symbols, but then the boy got to his knees and frantically worked Hellboy's belt open.

Hellboy tried to step back, tried to grab the kid's shaking hands and stop this before it got too far, but instead he dropped his gun to the floor and shrugged out of his jacket. The leather duster slid down the stairs along with his utility belt. Trinkets and tools rattled in the pockets as the belt bounced to the floor.

Running on feral instinct, Hellboy wasn't patient enough to remove the boy's clothes carefully. He hooked his stone hand into the collar of John's t-shirt, simultaneously yanking him closer and ripping it open. The sound of tearing fabric was the last in the silence before the din erupted around them. Neither noticed as the Fay returned to their party. A dozen of the creatures clustered at the dais to watch, laughing and calling out lewd suggestions that Hellboy growled at. He wanted to chase them off so he could have John to himself, but he couldn't pull away from the boy's milk-pale skin long enough to do anything other than snarl.

He leaned to mouth John's neck and shoulder, drawing desperate, needy gasps from the kid. John deftly worked Hellboy's pants open and released his growing erection. The thick organ slapped against Hellboy's tone stomach and the boy's eyes followed it intently. There was something like fear below his magic-driven lust, but Hellboy always got that reaction the first time he took a new lover to bed. His size had only frightened off one potential partner, but it always caused a pause in foreplay. Under different circumstances, John might have reconsidered what he was about to do. Hellboy could sense the uncertainty beneath the spell.

Hellboy pushed the boy back, coming down over him on his hands and knees. His comforting rumble rolled over John's ear and manifested as a full-body shudder that tore through the boy. John let out a whimpered moan and fought his way out of his jeans, leaving them to clump around his ankles. Hellboy visually devoured what the boy was offering him.

With the way John was arching his back, it brought his chest and flat, flawless belly out from the next of shredded fabric that was once a shirt. The line of flesh led Hellboy's gaze down to John's straining erection. It was already leaking fluid. Hellboy slid his human hand across the boy's right thigh to still the pervasive tremor, gently massaging the muscle there.

The queen nodded to a nearby servant who brought a marble jar to the dais. Hellboy quickly gathered John against him, baring his teeth at the blue-skinned man. The Fay flinched, but tossed the rose veined jar at him. It landed on the dais with a muffled thunk, making a small arc as it rolled. It bounced against Hellboy's knee before it fell flat. Hellboy swept his tail around it, too distracted by John's writhing body to give the jar any thought.

As he gyrated his hips against John's, he wrapped his tail tighter about the container. The coils twisted compulsively when the boy reached down to wrap his hands around both of their erections, and the container's lid popped off. Viscous liquid spilled over Hellboy's tail, momentarily catching his attention. He wiped some off with his fingers, working it between his thumb and index finger before his spell-addled brain realized what it was.

Hellboy flipped John over, his lip twitching slightly at the howling cheer that went up in their Fay audience. The boy obediently dropped to his elbows and knees. His fingers gripped the cloth beneath his head, the only tell that Hellboy could see. In the back of his mind, he rationally knew that the kid wasn't ready for this physically or mentally. Hellboy managed to force himself to pause with his lubed fingers pressed against John's entrance, but the kid pushed back against him, taking in both digits at once. John's cry wanted to be that of pleasure, but it couldn't properly disguise the pain.

The Seelie queen quirked her head as she watched Hellboy fight the dais's markings. Her smile had yet to fade and was only getting wider as Hellboy struggled to regain control. She stood and came down the six steps to the spelled circle, leaning over the engravings to hiss in Hellboy's ear. Her ultimatum chilled Hellboy's insides, "Give him what he wants or I'll let my knight do it. I assure you that the boy doesn't care who takes him at the point."

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John trembled at the queen's words. For the first time since he'd met the demon, Hellboy's mind was as open and accessible as a public park. What the queen had said put a dark seed of doubt in Hellboy that made John want to scream in frustration. If he could make his mouth do anything but moan, he would tell Hellboy that he didn't want anyone else touching him. He shifted his weight back to take Hellboy's fingers deeper, forcing the only word he could form into Hellboy's mind, 'You!'

A whimper dripped from John's open mouth when the demon's fingers pulled out of him. Panic roiled in his intestines, but he couldn't voice it. Nothing could exist in him besides the need.

The heat of the demon's body lifted off of John's back and his eyes flew open. He tilted his head to look back at Hellboy, desperately hoping he wasn't getting ready to hand John over to the knight. John brushed Hellboy's mind and was rewarded with a flood of tumbling emotions. There was heat and need and something deeply feral that hated letting the others see John naked, but hidden in that was worry and fear. John's panic eased slightly as he began to understand that Hellboy was afraid he'd hurt John. He knew the demon would avoid it if he could.

John watched as Hellboy lifted a small jar with his tail and dropped it in his stone hand. Hellboy gently rested the massive hand on John's hip, the two fingers not gripping the container spreading out to weigh heavily on John's back. Something probed at John's entrance, but Hellboy's normal hand came up to separate his ass cheeks and John could feel all five fingers gripping his flesh. John squeezed his eyes shut, his panic roaring back into place. He wasn't ready.

The blunted shape slipped inside easily, retreating before it got too deep. It slid into him again, going deeper and stretching him almost painfully before it slipped out. Whatever it was, it was too narrow to be Hellboy's cock. John hadn't seen many dicks since his sexuality had woken up, but he knew taking Hellboy would be incredibly painful, if not impossible. The demon was at least thirteen or fourteen inches erect, maybe more, and thick enough that John would choke if he tried to give him oral.

It thrust back in and the tip curled to stretch him further. John let out a guttural moan, his cock twitching as he recognized the shape as the demon's tail. More nimble than John was expecting, Hellboy's tail continued to curl back on itself until it was doubled over inside him. The pain was enormous, but John could only gasp and push back against the demon. A few tears escaped from John's scrunched eyes, running across the bridge of his nose and dripping onto his arm.

Hellboy's human hand left his hip and scraped the last of the lubricant out of the container. It bounced to the landing when Hellboy released it, rolling off the edge of the dais. Slowly, his tail unwound from John's body. John shuddered as it left. His insides ached from the preparation, but he desperately needed Hellboy to finish what he'd started. His skin was burning up, but he needed the inferno of Hellboy's body covering his. He knew the insignificant amount of experience he'd had could not prepare him for someone like Hellboy, but he needed to belong to him.

The thick head of Hellboy's cock replaced his tail and John swallowed. Though his hands were gripping the cloth so tightly he could feel his nails biting into his palms, he squeezed it tighter. Warm, living stone slid around John's stomach and up to his chest, lifting him off the dais. Hellboy's other hand held his hip firmly to keep him from sliding down on his cock too quickly.

The demon's breath rolled hot and moist across John's neck. It disturbed a few beads of sweat that trickled down past John's shoulder blade. The heat from Hellboy's body was too much and not enough. John struggled with the conflict, pushing against the threads of the spell clinging to his subconscious. He could feel one strand coming loose and found the trailing end. Before he could pull at it, Hellboy pressed into him. Agony chased away everything else.

John clutched at Hellboy's stone hand, one of his nails breaking on the hard surface. Blood welled along the fracture, but John didn't notice. He couldn't feel anything except Hellboy's slow, persistent movement forward. John's mouth opened in a silent scream. Tears flowed freely down his face as Hellboy snapped his hips and slammed in the last few inches.

They were still long enough that the Fay jeered and threw fruit at them. Most sailed by them, but a few pieces rebounded wetly off Hellboy's back and shoulders. He curled defensively around John to keep anything from hitting him.

John's body shook violently as he tried to relax around the demon. Soft touches to his face made John open his eyes. Hellboy caressed his cheek, wiping at his tears with the back of his knuckles. The demon crooned to him and let his hand trail down his chest and abdomen to John's erection. The hot palm enveloped him, pulling and stroking him just enough to distract him from Hellboy's first, minute thrust. John's head dropped onto Hellboy's shoulder, a breathy sigh escaping him as the tension leaked out of his features. His muscles finally unclenched so Hellboy could move.

As if he'd given the demon permission, Hellboy grabbed John's hips with both hands and started a brutal pace. He humped up into John, pulling him down into the thrusts. John screamed, ripped cleanly between pleasure and pain. Needing something to hold onto, he reached back behind Hellboy's head to fist his fingers in the demon's black hair. Hellboy growled at his tugging, but didn't move to make him stop.

John tried to get his feet on the ground so he could participate, but his jeans chained his ankles together and he couldn't get into a good position. He rocked his body against Hellboy, tilting his hips so the demon could go deeper. The pain lessened on each stroke and the new position allowed the wide head of Hellboy's cock to scrape against John's prostate. John's back bowed as ecstasy swept through him.

The Fay seemed to delight in the new pitch his voice took on. One woman with silver eyes and thin, gossamer wings reached out to touch John's flushed skin, but she hesitated at Hellboy's warning growl. Her lips pursed and her silver gaze melted to a deep black that made John flinch away. Hellboy's thrusts didn't falter as he shifted his stone hand back to John's chest and pulled John tight against him.

The queen snapped at the Fay woman in another language and she retreated from the dais. Others took her place, but no one else moved to make contact with them. John closed his eyes to block out their leering faces, focusing instead on Hellboy's rough rhythm. He was getting close to release. His insides contracted and fluttered, a sharp wave of heat roaring through him with each of Hellboy's thrusts.

An involuntary cry escaped from John as the demon's hand returned to his erection. His touch was not as gentle as before. Hellboy squeezed his member firmly, rubbing his thumb along the throbbing vein at the back. With a ragged scream, John spilled thin ribbons of cum over Hellboy's hand. The demon lifted the hand to his mouth and licked it clean before returning both hands to John's hips. He snapped up into John a half-dozen more times and then was pulsing into him, his release nearly scorching John's insides.

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Hellboy lowered John so he was on all fours, pumping his hips lightly as the last of his seed coated John's walls. Before he could pull out, he felt his erection returning. The magic-inspired need was not subsiding. Hellboy reached around the boy and palmed his member, finding that he was getting hard too. Suddenly, Hellboy understood what kind of spell was inscribed around the dais. The need would never subside. They would be driven by it until it killed them.

John must've picked up on the thought, because even as he was shifting back onto Hellboy's cock, he let out a fearful whimper. Gritting his teeth, Hellboy pushed down on the kid's back to urge him into a better position and resumed thrusting. It took longer for him to orgasm the second time. By the time he felt it overtaking him, John was panting with exhaustion and the kid's arms were shaking from holding him up. John cried out and came on the dais, dragging Hellboy along with him.

Hellboy hadn't quite finished his release when he started moving again. The kid's wretched cries were thin. They were still needy, but laced heavily with pain. Each moan made Hellboy's stomach turn. John's body tightened around him as his interior walls started to swell. It was making it harder to move and Hellboy knew he was a few thrusts away from tearing something open.

Hellboy lost track of time. The only reason he could tell time was moving at all was because John continued to deteriorate. Weariness crept into his muscles, but John was already beyond fatigued. After John collapsed onto his elbows, Hellboy turned him so he could lie on his back and hooked his arms beneath the kid's knees. John wrapped his arms around Hellboy's neck, bringing him down so he could place his slick forehead just under Hellboy's horns.

Eventually, John stopped crying out and spent all of his remaining energy trying to catch his breath. Orgasm was increasingly painful, leaving Hellboy's cock over sensitized and raw. Hellboy could smell blood, could taste the salt of John's tears on the boy's face, but still couldn't stop. He watched the kid's expression flutter ceaselessly between agony and desire, wanting to strip away both so John could rest. The boy was at his limit.

John's eyes got distant and Hellboy felt him enter his mind. There was no escape for him there. Hellboy was just as tired and hurt as he was so he wasn't sure what John was trying to do. Blocking the kid out seemed like a useless gesture. Neither of them was going to last much longer so Hellboy let him look. If the boy could find refuge in one of Hellboy's memories, then maybe he could get away from what was going on.

The kid brushed something in Hellboy's head that made the raging need waver. It rushed back a heartbeat later. The second time John found the spell, Hellboy didn't waste the opportunity. With a roar, Hellboy wrapped John in his arms and shoved off of the dais, tumbling over the edge.

They fell much longer than they should have. John landed first, Hellboy coming down on top of him. He stayed curled around the boy, expecting the Fay to descend on them like rabid dogs. When nothing happened, Hellboy cautiously sat up and looked around. They were back in the forest outside Dagdea's house.

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John let his legs drop from their place on Hellboy's waist, confusion curling his brow. He was still gasping for breath, though he wasn't exhausted anymore. They were both dressed and seemed to be unharmed. Hellboy turned a stunned expression onto John and suddenly leapt off of him, mumbling something about getting the jeep before shuffling off.

John stayed where the demon left him. He wondered if any of it happened at all, but his shirt was still shredded. He toyed with the damaged fabric before dropping his head back onto the leaves.

"What the fuck…" he murmured.

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TBC…

That had to be one of the longest sex scenes I have ever written. I hope the desperate intensity came across the way I wanted it to.


	7. The Cost

When John had waited almost twenty minutes without any sign of the jeep, he got up and headed towards the road. Buttoning his jacket over his ruined shirt as he walked, John kept a sharp eye out for anything strange. The forest was quiet, just the same as before they'd fallen into the courts. Something in the distance called his name. John shivered and pulled his jacket collar upright.

He found the jeep where they'd left it, Hellboy sitting at the wheel. The demon didn't notice him as approached, so John took a moment to open himself to Hellboy's thoughts. They were partially guarded already, but John caught his overwhelming guilt. It was powerful enough that John's guts shifted unpleasantly in response. The demon rubbed his face with his flesh hand then reached down to start the car. John hurried to the passenger side and yanked it open, startling Hellboy.

"Thought you were going to come get me," John said casually as he climbed into the car.

Instantly, the veil dropped over Hellboy's mind. The demon cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his seat, "Yeah, sorry about that."

Silence weighed heavily in the cab as Hellboy drove. The demon's stern eyes warned against trying to discuss what had passed between them. John fidgeted with anything he could get his hands on, his seatbelt, the air conditioning vents, and a small cigarette burn in the upholstery. He flipped on the radio and scanned through half a dozen static stations before turning it off again.

When he couldn't stand it anymore, John started to say, "What-"

"No."

Stunned by the abrupt brush-off, John's mouth hung open for a few moments before he could arrange his thoughts, "But can't we just-"

"Look kid, I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it, so let it go," Hellboy snarled, though he sounded tired.

John sat back in his seat with a deep frown. He wondered if he'd misjudged Hellboy. Maybe the demon wasn't interested in him at all. The time he'd spend in the investigator's mind made him think otherwise. He'd enveloped John, welcomed him when he shrank away from his own failing body. What John had found in Hellboy was a powerful protectiveness and something more tender, but equally unmistakable. The Fay spell could've conjured the emotions, but John doubted it.

John unbuckled so he could turn to face Hellboy, "Okay, so do you like me or not, because right now you're a living Katy Perry song."

"What does that even mean?"

"Hot and Cold." When Hellboy cast a sidelong look at him, John sighed and mumbled, "Never mind."

"Kid-"

"I am not a child, Hellboy! Would you please try to treat me like an adult for the next twenty minutes and level with me?"

The muscles in the demon's jaw tensed and flexed as he ground his teeth together. Hellboy looked out the driver's window at the passing landscape, his fingers squeezing the steering wheel until it creaked. The woods were quickly melting into meadows and fields. John wished for the first time since he left America that there was something more interesting to look at than endless, rolling green. They wouldn't see many buildings until they were within a mile or so of their destination.

When Hellboy didn't answer him, John deflated to his side of the car. It was possible that Hellboy thought he was protecting John from what happened by avoiding it. If that was true, there wasn't much John could do to convince him otherwise. He talked anyway, hoping the demon might take something to heart, "You know, you think that you have to protect me, but nothing about this job has come close to touching how fucked up the rest of my life has been. At least this makes sense."

Hellboy glanced away from the road with a furrowed brow.

John continued, "That probably seems weird to you, but this work makes sense. The Fay, all of them, light, dark, all of them are living in the past. They want to go back to the time when humans were easy to cow and easy to control and the wild magic ran rampant. Some of them, like Grom, just wish they could go back to the way things were, and some, like this Shade woman that's resurrecting the king want to force us back into the dark ages. All of that is understandable."

John's throat tightened as his thoughts passed to his mother and he furiously wiped at his watering eyes before they could shed anything. "But what kind of sense do people make? They attack each other for no reason. If something scares them, they get as far from it as they can. Or they try to wipe it out because some built in survival mechanism says every other common sense we have should be cast aside so we can save ourselves."

John wasn't sure whether Hellboy's silence was a blessing or a curse. He didn't look over at the demon, not sure he wanted to know what kind of reaction his ramblings had caused. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm made for this. I may not be as big or strong as you, but you don't have to worry about me. If my history didn't prepare me to handle this sort of stuff, then nobody you ever hire will be able to handle it."

Hellboy cleared his throat, "And what exactly was your grand plan for getting out of the Glem Court on your own?"

"I was working it out when you came busting in with gun drawn," John said, a slight smile touching the corner of his mouth. "You sure made a mess out of things."

The guilt came rushing back and John immediately regretted his joke. Hellboy shifted slightly in his seat and reached over to roll down the window. Cool air flowed around them as the demon propped his arm on the windowsill. John could barely hear him over the sound of the churning wind, "You should put your seatbelt back on."

"There's nothing out here, unless you hit a sheep. I think I'll be fine."

Hellboy reverted to work, "What about this 'Shade woman'? Did you pick up on her at Dagdea's house?"

"You're never going to answer my question, are you?"

"Are you going to answer mine?"

John sighed. He could keep pushing it, withhold the information Hellboy wanted until the demon faced their intimate if not forced moment, but he knew Hellboy wouldn't appreciate it. There was one thing he had to know, "It really did happen, though… didn't it?" John had been in terrible shape, so to get up and walk away a few minutes later was unexpected.

"Yeah, it happened," Hellboy groaned, his words nearly lost in the noisy cab.

John toyed with the shredded bits of shirt hanging out from beneath his jacket, "Then why-"

"You broke through their game and got us loose. When their prey breaks out, they tend to shove it through the door so they don't have to deal with it."

"But…" John hesitated to mention the state he'd been in since Hellboy was beating himself up over it, but he needed to know why he wasn't dying when they were set free. He studied Hellboy's overcast expression and decided not to ask. The demon's remorse curled around them like a living creature, squeezing the fight out of John.

"You know the catch phrase 'What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas'?"

John nodded, one brow arched.

"Well, the Fay worlds are kind of like that. Sometimes, you go into them and it's like time is suspended here, but sometimes you go in and you come out to a different time altogether. They either healed us, or let us heal before they released us. No way to tell which, really."

Resisting the urge to reach out and comfort Hellboy, John rolled down his window too and gave the air a cross-path. He leaned out into the wind and took a deep breath. The guilt settled low in his stomach, weighing him down. John didn't know the right way to address it without Hellboy getting mad about him snooping around in his head. This was one thing John wished he could block off, but Hellboy was broadcasting. Strong emotions were hard to hide.

The only real solace he could think of was to let the demon throw himself back into their work, "When you and Dagdea were talking, her thoughts went to a woman in the middle of a bunch of stones standing on their end. It looked like the woman was in Stonehenge."

John didn't miss Hellboy's relief. His guilt faded a little, but stayed strong enough that John could still feel it. Hellboy asked, "What did she look like?"

"She was young, thin. I couldn't see her face, but she had really long, red hair."

Hellboy mulled over his answer. John could sense him chewing on an idea, though he couldn't figure out what it was without digging. Instead of prying, he focused on his lingering feeling that he'd seen the woman before. It was definitely in a different setting and he couldn't be certain without knowing what the woman's face looked like, but he recognized the hair. The realization hit John and Hellboy almost at the same time, so close that John wasn't sure who formed the thought first.

"The woman from the church!" John exclaimed.

Hellboy clarified, "Chloe."

"She must've been at the church so she could get the bones."

The jeep growled as Hellboy stepped on the gas. Greenery whipped by, the landscape becoming a blur. "But if she's the one with the bones in the standing circle, then she would have to be Fay," Hellboy mused. He glanced over at John and reminded him, "Put on your seatbelt."

John didn't acknowledge his second comment, too focused on the first, "Even if she was Fay, she would be able to move around in the church, right? They're not demons or vampires or anything, so the church wouldn't hurt them."

"But the iron box where the bones were kept would. She would have had to have a human helping her or she never would've gotten them out of the crypt." Hellboy was barely looking at the road. He fixed his eyes on John, "And if she has an accomplice, then they might know where the ceremony is taking place."

Barely visible over the rise in the road, a figure stepped out into the street. His armor seemed to absorb the light of day. The green of his skin would make it almost impossible to separate him from a field or meadow, but out in the open, he was a towering wall of spines and thorns. Sparks flew from the tip of his blade as he drew a line in the asphalt in front of him.

The jeep devoured the ground between them and the armored figure. Hellboy was still enthusiastically describing his plan on how they could use John's abilities to discover Chloe's accomplice. John was the first one to see him, but they were within a dozen yards of the man before he cried out, "Hellboy!"

Both of the demon's hands went to the wheel, yanking it hard to one side. Rubber screamed and smoked as the jeep careened around the knight. As they banked to the left, the passenger side wheels came off the pavement. The jeep corkscrewed. John gripped the door handle and part of the seat, squeezing his eyes shut as the car tumbled onto its hood, then its roof. Something warm and heavy slammed against his chest and pinned him to the seat.

Glass exploded, but the sound was muffled in John's ears. The jeep rolled over and over. Metal scraped first against cement and then against earth. Clods of dirt and grass rocketed into the air with plastic and black flecks of vehicle. Finally, the mess of bent metal slid to a stop. It rocked slowly on the roll bars that covered the cab, one wheel still spinning uselessly in the air. A triangle of glass dropped from the void that was once a back windshield.

John flinched as the weight on his chest moved and he felt gravity pulling at him. He opened his eyes to find Hellboy's stone hand gripping the front of his jacket. The jeep was upside down and the demon was the only thing keeping him from dropping out of his seat. Part of the roof was ripped away, so when John reached over his head to stabilize himself, his fingers found dirt. Hellboy carefully lowered him to the ground.

Through the narrow slit the window had become, John could see a pair of feet approaching them. He shuffled back and dug into his pocket for a small folding knife, turning his attention to Hellboy's seatbelt. There was a substantial gouge on the demon's forehead just underneath his horns, but he looked okay otherwise. While John worked at the thick strap at the demon's waist, Hellboy looked him over, checking him with his flesh hand.

"You okay, kid?" he asked, probing at the back of John's neck with calloused fingers that scratched his skin.

"You can say 'I told you so' about the fucking seatbelt later. Whatever that thing was is coming our way," John told him in a panicked rush of breath.

Hellboy tilted his head so he could see through the crushed window, saying, "Get back."

John did as he was told and Hellboy ripped the seatbelt loose with his stone hand. He slammed into the remnants of roof, rolling awkwardly in the small space so he was upright. Giving John a firm, "Stay here," he slipped out of the driver's side window.

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Hellboy was still a little disoriented from getting thrown around in the accident, but he didn't let it show. Most monsters thrived on weakness, latching onto it and utilizing it until the battle was won. Though, the creature standing across from Hellboy was not a dumb, wildly aggressive beast. It was a knight.

"Not often I see your kind away from your master," Hellboy commented calmly, his fingers flexing on the smooth wood of the Samaritan's handle.

Behind him, glass crunched and it sounded as though something soft was sliding against metal. He knew without looking that John didn't listen to him. The kid was probably crawling out of the wreckage. Hellboy just hoped that he had the common sense to come out on the far side of the car. Hellboy put himself between the knight and the jeep in case John decided he was going to 'help'.

The wind picked up, playing with the horsehair plume that rose from the knight's helmet. It drifted lazily across his shoulders and face. The knight's mouth was set in a hard line, his solid white eyes squinting against the sun. He had his sword drawn and carried it with the tip pointed at the ground. As he came closer, Hellboy could see the markings on the chest plate that identified his court and loyalty. It was a wolf leaping over a serpent. The two animals were locked together in battle, each one swallowing the tail of the other. Hellboy had only seen the emblem in old texts, but he recognized it as the Shade Court.

The knight stopped a few feet from Hellboy and hissed, "The bone." He extended one gauntleted hand, the dark thorns sprouting from his fingers making it look like a cat's offering of a perch to a bird.

Hellboy had to tilt his head back to see the knight's face, "I think we both know that's not going to happen."

The knight's fingers curled closed before he dropped his fist to his side. The green Fay brought the sword up so the flat of the blade was turned to his face, saluting Hellboy. After he'd shown his respect, he took several steps back and slung the blade in a wide arc around himself.

Hellboy undid the clasp on his holster and pulled his gun free. He'd never fought a knight of either court, but he knew they approached battle with the same sort of revere that human knights used to. Violence was their whole life. They were bred, born, and raised to kill their master's enemies with honor. There would be no retreat for either of them.

While he waited for the first attack, Hellboy opened his mind for John, trying to give him a message without the knight knowing about it. He thought the words, 'Hunt through his mind, find out where that stone circle is,' and hoped that John could hear him.

Then the knight dove towards him and Hellboy put his first bullet into his shoulder. The iron round punched through the armor and flesh, coming out the far side. It didn't slow the knight's charge. His sword flicked through the air like a snake strike. Hellboy barely managed to get his stone arm in the path of the blade before it made out fountain out of his neck.

Taking a step back to avoid the next slash, Hellboy aimed his gun at the knight's chest and fired. The massive bang folded into the crunch of the Fay's bones. For a breath, Hellboy could see through the man. Nothing bled. As Hellboy watched, something inside the knight moved. The shape pulsed and throbbed at the top edge of the wound. Before Hellboy could figure out what it was, thick vines twisted together to cover the hole.

The knight brought his sword in tight and fast, aiming the thrust at Hellboy's guts. Hellboy leapt to the side. The point caught his hip and pain slammed through him. Hellboy turned his body into the blade and grabbed it with his stone hand. The metal screeched against his palm when he tried to yank it out of the Fay's grasp. The knight released the sword, only to grab the back of Hellboy's neck and slam his helm into Hellboy's head. The blow mostly glanced off his horns, but it was surprising enough to make him drop the weapon.

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John stayed behind the destroyed jeep, watching the fight and trying to get a grip on the knight's mind. It wasn't like anything he'd tried to read before. There were decisions, thoughts, but John might as well have been staring at hundreds of lines of computer code for all the sense it made. He was working on dissecting it one piece at a time. The deeper he waded, the more lost he felt. He could see the Fay's mission, could see the bone as clearly as though he was holding it in his palm, but surrounding the bone was blood.

John pushed past the mission and sunk into the crimson ocean of death. His fingers tightened on the jeep's frame as his pulse raced. He forced the blood away and took a shuddering breath. Behind the mission was the woman they were looking for. The memory of her smiled at him, her unnaturally beautiful face tainted with malevolence.

Her voice came through to him, "Kill all those who stand against us."

John widened his vision to take in the surroundings. The stones became clear first, and then the hundreds of faces hovering like ghosts in the darkness beyond them came into focus. Teeth and glowing eyes glinted into the shadows behind the stones. John could barely make out the trees beyond the creatures, but it didn't help him determine where the circle was. Most people had tendrils of thought attached to memories. John could use those dangling attachments to determine where someone was when the memory was formed, what they were feeling when the memory was occurring, but there were no thoughts or emotions about the Fay's memory. The memory stood alone like some kind of canned movie footage.

Above the screaming, howling creatures, a voice whispered in a language John had never heard before. The tenor scraped and dragged around his head, each word wrapping itself in his subconscious. He could feel it grabbing hold of him, but he couldn't seem to block it out. The memory he was searching faded into reality. He blinked stupidly at the daylight, not sure what happened.

Hellboy and the knight continued their fight and the voice continued to chant. John winced when the demon took a hit to the temple from the knight's spiny gauntlet. His vision wavered as Hellboy stumbled back from the blow. John gripped the jeep's foot runner to try and keep himself upright. Everything spun wildly around his head. He could still hear the unpleasant smack and crunch of the fight and Hellboy's grumbled curses, but he couldn't get his eyes to focus on anything. John felt out the voice, tracing it back to the knight. Gathering his scattered wits, he shoved at the knight's mind as hard as he could. His vision cleared in time to see the Fay physically stagger under his attack.

The knight whipped around to stare at John, but Hellboy was on him the moment his attention was diverted. Slamming all of his immense weight into the Fay's middle, Hellboy knocked him off his feet and wrapped his stone hand around the giant's throat before he could recover. The knight's long fingers scrambled uselessly against Hellboy's arm. With a grimace, the demon unloaded the rest of his rounds into the knight's helmet. The gun was still smoking when the body underneath Hellboy stopped twitching.

"I really hope you got what you needed, because I don't think he's going to be very talkative now," Hellboy said as he climbed to his feet.

John didn't take his eyes away from the Fay's helmet. It was full of grass and wood and bits of leaves, like someone emptied their lawn trimmings into the metal shell. Before Hellboy could finish reloading his gun, wriggling vines sprouted from the stump of neck and started braiding together. The knight's hand twitched and flexed and slammed down into the earth.

"Hellboy, look out!"

The demon turned, but thick roots burst out of the concrete with a deafening crack. They slammed into Hellboy from below, driving through his thigh and left shoulder and lifting him high into the air. The demon's blood ran down the roots in dark rivers. Terror slipped unbidden into John like the icy draft under the door in the dead of winter. It wound around the base of his spine as he helplessly watched Hellboy struggle to free himself.

The knight got up before his head was done reforming. Blades of grass crawled across the writhing mass of vines and white fire flared to life inside the empty eye orbits. A strangled sound emerged from John as he backed away from the approaching knight. High above them, Hellboy was screaming for him to run, but there was another voice that had swarmed into his mind. It bade him to stay with authority that was linked directly with his motor cortex. John froze, his heart hammering against his sternum hard enough that he swore the bone was going to break.

"Run, John! Fuck!" Hellboy desperately shouted. The demon reached behind him for the root that was impaling him, but his heavy, stone fingers weren't touching anything but air.

John's breath came faster as the knight got closer. It was too shallow to be effective and he was getting lightheaded. His eyes were wide enough that there were whites visible all around his chocolate-colored irises and sweat gathered at his brow. As the Fay came around the jeep, John's gaze flicked to Hellboy again in the hopes that the demon was rushing over to save him. Amidst the whispers that were like shards of glass in his mind, John decided that he really did need Hellboy's protection.

The knight wrapped his hands around John's head, his fingers overlapping at the back, and lifted him from the ground. He hoisted him until John's eyes were level with his burning eye sockets. John's hands went to his wrists, but the voice rebounding around his skull kept him from pulling. The knight smiled, though his lips hadn't formed yet so it was more like a snarl.

"Be careful of who you explore, boy. While you see me, I see you," the knight whispered in the same voice that commanded John.

The knight's presence flooded John's mind. It wasn't the gentle, careful prodding that John used to get information, it was forceful and violent. John screamed as the knight wrenched apart his memories the same way a high school student would dissect a frog. A trickle of blood dripped from John's nose. Shoving through John's mental viscera, he touched dozens of old memories that flared in response to his presence. Things that were buried as deep as John could get them were dragged forward in broken fragments. His mother's terrified, screaming face, the judge that looked down at him like an executioner, the huddled shape of his roommate at the asylum, the screams of the other patients.

When John was ready to beg for mercy, ready to tell the knight whatever he wanted to know so he'd get out of his head, the knight found something. He picked up the token piece of information and, through the pounding, headache inspired haze, John could see what he was looking at. The memory played as the knight examined it. It wasn't long, just Hellboy sitting in the driver's side of the jeep, telling him that Kate had taken the bone back to the bureau with her. The knight took in a deep, hissing breath and let the memory play again, focusing in on Hellboy's mouth as the words tumbled innocently from him.

Then he was ripping through John again, looking for something about the bureau. John whimpered at the renewed pain. Blood from his nose dribbled down his lip and chin, some of it slipping inside his mouth when he cried out. He choked as the coppery taste hit the back of his throat.

Images of the bureau flashed behind his eyelids. Following that was the simple memory of John giving the cab driver directions. Even if the bone was under lock, key, and guard, John suspected that it wouldn't dissuade the knight. Chloe had told him to bring the bone back at any cost and that was exactly what he would do.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Let him go, you son of a-" Hellboy growled.

He snapped the root that was protruding from his thigh. As his weight fell to his shoulder, he grit his teeth against his agonized yell. He worked at the last root, but it was thick and flexible and wouldn't snap. His rough stone fingers gouged off the first few layers of wood. Sap flowed as blood, making his hand sticky, but the root still would give way.

Hellboy's head snapped up as John cried out. The kid's eyes were rolled so far back that all Hellboy could see were the whites. He didn't know what the knight was doing to him, he just knew that if he didn't get to him soon, John might not make it.

Giving up on breaking the root, Hellboy brought his feet forward and braced them against the wood. He dug his hooves in and grabbed the root and pushed his body upwards. He only managed to slide a few inches, but could feel bits of the wood lodging in his skin and muscle. With a growled shout, he pushed harder. The diameter of the root got thinner the higher he managed to go, until he got to a place where it was too thin to hold him. The root shattered and Hellboy fell. He couldn't get oriented in the air, landing heavily on his side and bad shoulder. Massive pain roared through his body, but he barely felt it.

Hellboy rolled to his feet and yanked the remnant of wood out of his shoulder as he charged the knight. Flipping the sharp spine around, he jammed it up underneath the edge of the knight's armor and into his back. Hellboy hooked an arm underneath one of the knight's arms to pull the Fay farther onto the spike. Instead of fighting, the knight exploded into a cloud of buzzing insects. John's limp body dropped to the ground as the swarm flew off in every direction. Cussing, Hellboy swatted at the wasps and locusts, but could only kill a few of them.

Hellboy knelt by John and lifted the boy's head and shoulders off the ground, "Kid?" He brushed away some of the blood under John's nose, smearing it more than anything else. "John?" He couldn't hide his relief when John stirred. With a smile, Hellboy admitted, "I was afraid he'd killed you. You okay?"

"Nothing some migraine medication won't fix," John mumbled, his voice wavering slightly.

Considering how much the kid's body was trembling, Hellboy had to admire the brave face he was putting on. Whatever the knight had done to him had shaken him badly, but John seemed determined to push it behind him. And, judging by the blood, it wasn't just fear he was dealing with.

Opening his eyes was accompanied by a wince that Hellboy didn't miss. Hellboy helped him upright, moving to the left so he blocked the sun that was beating down on John's face. More than once, he'd had to hunt down and kill every light in Kate's office because she had a migraine, so he hoped it would help a little. At least the kid stopped squinting.

"He knows where the bone is."

Hellboy straightened and asked, "What?"

"He knows Kate has it," John said, turning a worried look onto Hellboy. "We have to warn her."

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Most of the corner offices in the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense were taken up by conference rooms or VIPs, all except one. The only exception was the office of Dr. Kate Corrigan. Her nearly fathomless knowledge of the occult and adept field skills had earned her the office almost a year before and, though it caused a bit of a stir around the water coolers for a few weeks, most of the other agents agreed that she deserved the space.

It was late in the evening, but Kate was still bent over a large, yellowed text spread out on her desk. The book was one of several hundred tomes she'd collected since arriving at the bureau in the eighties. Wide, overburdened shelves huddled together along every wall of her office. Though they were very full, their content was impeccably organized. The books were separated by country, then by region, and then alphabetically sorted by monster, allowing Kate to find information faster than anyone with a computer could hope to.

Other than the shelves and desk, her office was sparsely furnished. There was a burnt umber couch tucked between the door to her personal bathroom and one of the bookshelves. One of its legs was broken and the stub was propped up on a brick, courtesy of Hellboy. He'd offered to buy her a new couch a dozen times, but she didn't mind the bad leg. It still served its purpose.

No one really understood why Kate's office was so bare until there was an important case. When there was a lot of research to be done, Kate was known to cover every square inch of her considerable floor space with paperwork and books. Though it probably wasn't the more organized method, it worked for her.

Kate sat up to rub some of the fatigued muscles in her back. Without looking away from her book, she grabbed the handle of her cat mug and sipped at the lukewarm coffee. Sitting in a small dish next to her lamp was the bone Hellboy had given to her. She'd studied it very carefully, but, besides discoloring at the touch of iron, there wasn't anything unusual about it. She'd encountered objects before that radiated energy and that was what she'd been expecting from a bone that supposedly belonged to the Shade King.

Since the bone yielded no answers, Kate had turned her attention to research. So far, she'd uncovered only the most basic mythos surrounding the Shade resurrection, but none of it put her at ease. The rise of the Unseelie Court was sunk in murky prophecies of world-ending proportions. The Shade King legend spoke of carnage and death on a level that was only matched by the Bubonic plague.

Kate jumped when the phone rang. For a moment, she stared at it, letting its shrill voice rise and ebb in the room. The cell vibrated across the surface of her desk until it reached her name plaque. She picked it up on the third ring, "Dr. Corrigan speaking."

"Kate," Hellboy somehow managed to sound tired and worried and relieved all in the same syllable.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to get in touch with you for four days," Kate groused. "What's the point in having a satellite phone if you don't leave it on?"

Static crackled on Hellboy's end. Kate was beginning to think she'd lost the connection when Hellboy said, "Four days. I was gone for four days?"

Loss of time happened for a number of reasons, but none of them were good. Kate pulled the receiver closer to her mouth, her brow creasing, "Yes, HB. I saw you in England on Monday and it's Friday now."

"Shit. It doesn't matter right now, there's an Unseelie knight headed your way. Please tell me you have that bone locked up in the vault."

Kate's pale blue eyes flicked to the innocuous triangle of bone sitting on her desk, "No, but I'll get it there now. What can you tell me about the knight?"

As Hellboy briefed her on the details, she slammed her tome shut and grabbed the Fay bone. She ran to the door. Her fingers had only just landed on the knob when an alarm went off deep in the heart of the base. Within seconds, it spread to every room. The small red box near the roof started flashing and wailing, signaling a break in the bureau's security.

"Is that the perimeter alarm?" Hellboy asked urgently.

Kate rushed back to her desk and jerked the top-drawer open. The contents shifted violently, so she had to push aside a few sticky note pads to get to her pistol. She flicked the safety off.

"Kate?"

"It's the interior alarm. I think your knight is already here."

"Kate, you've got to get that bone down to-"

"I know what I have to do," Kate whispered as bugs poured underneath the door jam. She ducked behind her desk and leveled her gun on the edge with the barrel pointed at the door.

"I'll call Liz."

The swarm collected in the center of her room, forming a shape that was humanoid but unnaturally tall. The thrum of their wings was as loud as ocean surf.

Kate took a breath to steady herself, "She's in Wells with Abe… I have to go."

"Kate!"

She dropped the phone and started firing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC


	8. The Conspirator

Not much of a beta on this one, so point out any glaring mistakes so I can fix them.

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After his fourth unsuccessful attempt to get a hold of someone at the bureau, Hellboy snarled and pulled back his hand to throw the phone. John grabbed his wrist.

"No, no! We'll need it!"

Hellboy let him take the device from him. Too agitated to stay still, he stalked away from the kid and back again, rubbing his wounded shoulder absently. John stayed where he was, clutching the satellite phone to his chest as if it was something precious.

After Hellboy paced the short distance between John and the car a half a dozen times, John said, "I'm sure someone gave her backup."

"Not fast enough. It was there! It was already there. How did it get there so damn fast? They should've had more time to-"

"Hellboy, this isn't going to help her."

Hellboy stopped. He knew the kid was right. He wanted to help Kate, but the bureau was prepared for such emergencies and they were halfway around the world. The only thing he could do was to keep looking for the resurrection site. If the knight was successful in retrieving the bone, then they had less than a day and a half to find it.

"Abe and Liz are in Wells. We need to meet up with them."

"Are they other agents?" John asked.

"Yeah."

"How are we going to get there? The car is dead."

Hellboy glanced at the heap of metal with a scowl. He was quiet as he judged the weight of the jeep and how badly his arm was diminished during the fight. When he'd come to his conclusion, he went to the jeep. Using only his stone hand, he rolled the car onto its side and then back onto its wheels.

It was a mess. Hellboy could tell from first glance that it probably wouldn't start. And, even if it did, it wouldn't drive far. Fluid leaked freely from the undercarriage and the roll bar had collapsed on one side. The damage to the body was extensive, making the jeep look more like a crumpled piece of tin foil than a vehicle.

John walked over to stand at Hellboy's left, joking weakly, "Do you think we could thumb a ride?"

"We'll have to do the next best thing," Hellboy answered, holding his hand out for the phone. "I'll call Abe."

The icthyo sapien picked up almost immediately, "I really hope you can explain where you've been, because Liz is pissed that we got pulled off our assignment."

In the background, Liz shouted, "Is that him?"

"For god's sake, don't give her the phone," Hellboy pleaded even as Liz asked to talk to him. "I just need a ride, Abe."

"I'm sure we can manage some-"

Liz's level, but heated voice overtook Abraham, "You know, the world is ending in other places, Red. We shouldn't have to come cover your ass just because you decided you want some time off. Hey, I'm not done!"

Liz's furious rant faded into the distance as Abe somehow managed to get the phone back, "Where are you?"

"Somewhere on A39 near Dagdea's place."

"I hope you didn't give her anything."

Hellboy intentionally sidestepped the subject, "You should be able to spot us pretty easily. The jeep is a mess and there's a killer pothole in the middle of the road."

"You know what happened last time you-"

"And hell, I'll be sitting there and it's really hard to miss me."

"It took us weeks to clean up from-"

"Abe, will you please just skip the lecture and come get me?"

There was a pause and Hellboy swore he could feel Liz's glare through the phone. "We'll be there in a few hours."

Hellboy shut the phone off and stuck it in his pocket before groping around for a cigar. When he came up empty handed, he went to the jeep and popped open the glove box. There was a half pack of cigarettes sandwiched between the jeep's manual and a spare clip for a Colt pistol. Hellboy shook one of the cigarettes into his palm. As he leaned against the jeep to light up, John reached to peel his jacket off the hole in his shoulder.

"Was there a first-aid kit in the jeep?"

"In the back, but who knows what's left of it." When John went to look for the kit, Hellboy added, "Don't worry about it, Boyscout. It'll heal up on its own."

The kid wasn't dissuaded and reappeared with a cracked box emblazoned with a red cross.

"I'm okay, you really don't have to…"

"Just sit down."

Sticking the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, Hellboy sighed and lowered himself to the grass. He put his back and head on the jeep door, watching the boy dig around in the kit for some tweezers. When John found them, he wiped them off with an alcohol pad and turned his attention to Hellboy's shoulder. His dedicated focus made Hellboy smirk.

"You're never going to find all the splinters."

"Maybe so," John said without looking up from his task. "But I can at least get the big ones."

John picked for several minutes, wiping each wooden shard onto a piece of gauze before he went in for the next one. Hellboy waited until John had pulled out a large sliver before he tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette, making sure to blow the smoke to the side so he didn't get it in the kid's face. His mind roamed endlessly over Kate and the bureau while he watched the kid work.

When John sat back on his heels to get a new piece of gauze, the kid scolded him, "You're going to make yourself sick if you keep thinking about it."

"I am not," Hellboy grumbled, but tried to focus on going through the known standing stone circles. There were more than a few possibilities. "Those stones you saw in Dagdea's head, how tall were they?"

John propped his hand on Hellboy's chest as he leaned in close to find the remaining splinters, "They were taller than everybody standing near them, so twelve, maybe fifteen feet tall. Why does that matter?"

"Narrows the search."

Hellboy stared at the kid's lips when they pursed in concentration. The very tip of John's tongue touched his upper lip as he tried to get a grip on one of the smaller wood fragments. Hellboy wanted him. He already knew how perfect being inside the kid felt and he wanted to be with him as often as they could find an available bed, but there were so many things that made that impossible. The bureau had a long-standing rule about not dating fellow agents, not to mention that he was far too old for John. The more Hellboy thought about it, the more reasons he could find that dating John was a bad idea. Thing was, no matter how many reasons there were, Hellboy still wanted him.

When John seemed satisfied with his work, he disinfected the wound with something that made Hellboy's tail twist and wrapped his shoulder in gauze. He tied the end around the edge of the bandage then glanced up at Hellboy through his lashes. Hellboy's mouth went dry. He started to say something that would kill whatever the kid was thinking, but John surged forward before he could get a word out. The kid's lips crashed against his open mouth and Hellboy's human hand came up to tangle in the boy's hair.

Without realizing it, Hellboy deepened the kiss, pulling John closer. The kid was practically in his lap, one hand braced against his chest and the other wrapped tightly around Hellboy's neck. Hellboy's tongue slid against John's and the boy groaned. It was a deep, desperate sound that made Hellboy's blood boil. His stone hand went to the small of John's back, bringing him flush against Hellboy's chest and pinning John's arm between them. He could feel the boy's fingers curl against his skin as their tongues fought and tangled.

They parted so John could take in a quick gasp of air and Hellboy's head cleared. He pulled the kid back, separating their flushed bodies and feeling very cold for it.

"Kid…"

While he tried to think of the right thing to say, John cut in, "Don't shoot me down yet, just think about it." The kid put his fingers to Hellboy's mouth and urged, "Please, just think about it."

Falling victim to John's pleading stare, Hellboy finally nodded. The warm smile he got from John was well worth it. Still wearing his content little smirk, the kid started work on Hellboy's other wounds.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When the BPRD van rolled into view, Hellboy and John were both leaning on the jeep playing I Spy. The game wasn't going well because all they could see were trees and grass and road. Oddly, John found that he wasn't bored. Sitting with Hellboy was very companionable despite the tension that floated between them.

The demon was processing a half-dozen things in his head while he played their mindless game. He was thinking about the location of the standing stones, and Kate's condition, and John's kiss. John couldn't pick up any details since Hellboy was keeping them to himself, but it was more than the demon usually let him see. John felt a little swell of pride.

He continued to scour their surroundings for something new to use, "I spy something red."

"It's me," Hellboy said without much effort.

"No, it was you last time-"

"The blood on the cement."

"Shit."

As the van came closer, Hellboy climbed to his feet and shook his coat out. John stayed seated, not really trusting his throbbing head enough to get up quickly. When he'd had headaches like this in the past, he'd been known to black out if he turned his head too fast, let alone if he jumped upright. He pushed his feet underneath him and slid his back along the battered surface of the door until he was standing. Hellboy arched one brow at him, but didn't comment on it.

The charcoal colored van slanted off of the road just behind their jeep and petite redhead jumped out of the driver's seat. Her full lips were pulled together in a scowl that made John want to hide behind his demonic companion. Something John had never encountered before radiated from the woman. Whatever it was, it seemed too powerful to come from such a small person.

She was an inch or so taller than John and was thin, but curved in all the right places. Her figure was draped in heavy military gear and an olive green jacket with the BPRD logo on the shoulder and her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail. John didn't have to touch her mind to feel her barely contained anger. There was a light glowing in the back of her eyes, making them look like wolf's eyes caught in a beam of light.

Before she could speak, Hellboy asked, "Have you heard anything from the bureau?"

She came within a few steps of them, glaring at Hellboy then turning her oddly illuminated eyes to John. When her gaze connected with his, he saw a flash of fire and heard a screaming child. The brief, but vivid memory made John fall back against the jeep. He averted his eyes to the grass as he tried to manage to the new flare of pain her memory brought with it.

"Yes," she practically growled, looking up at Hellboy. "Kate's in the ICU along with three other agents. Whatever this thing was, it hit fast and hard."

"It was an Unseelie knight, same thing that attacked us."

The woman glanced at the ruined jeep and around at the empty pastures before turning towards the van, "It's clear, Abe."

The back doors of the van opened and the other agent stepped out onto the road. Having encountered so many weird things in one day, John wasn't particularly disturbed by the agent's appearance. Though he looked like he might be part fish, Abe wasn't any stranger than Hellboy or the gigantic green knight. He was an average height for a man and very lean, dressed in clothes that echoed the woman's gear, but in all black. Despite the cold air, he was wearing a short sleeve shirt that revealed a set of fins running from his elbows to his wrists. The gills standing out from his neck quivered constantly, occasionally flexing as he took a breath. John followed the black pattern that flowed over Abe's cerulean skin, but stopped when Abe returned his gaze.

"What did you do to Kate's jeep?" Abe asked, resting his hands casually on his belt and gun holster.

Hellboy scratched the back of his head, "Jeeps roll easy, not much else to say."

"Fuck the jeep, I want to know where you've been," the woman John assumed was Liz snarled. Those luminescent eyes fixed on John again and he felt the air around him getting hot. "And who the hell is that?"

Abe went to the front of the jeep and crouched to look underneath it. He slid his fingers delicately over the bent fender as he examined the vehicle. "I don't think we can tow it. The front will fall off halfway to Wells."

"They'll have to send a flatbed," Hellboy threw at Abe and stepped between Liz and John. The moment his body was blocking John from view, the air cooled. "I was stuck in a Fay court, and he," Hellboy jabbed the air with his stone thumb, aiming it in John's direction, "is John Myers. New guy."

John eased his head out from around Hellboy's arm, "Hello."

Her mind tumbled quickly through thoughts, some of which John caught and others that he couldn't touch before they were gone. She was suspicious of him because she thought he might be a psychic and shocked by Hellboy's need to step between them. For a split second, she wondered if there was something going on between them, but she dismissed it for the unfinished job that hung over all of them.

The bright glow faded from her eyes, leaving behind deep brown irises that were flecked with gold. "It's a good bet that whatever your knight was after, he has it now."

"It was a bone, and yeah, he probably does. They can't resurrect the Shade King until tomorrow night, so we've got a little less than twenty-one hours to track them down."

Liz dug a pack of cigarettes out of the back pocket of her jeans and shook it until a half inch of filter was sticking out of the foil. She brought the entire package to her mouth and took the cigarette between her lips. Holding two fingers beneath the tip of the cigarette, she lit it with a plume of fire that hovered just above her nails.

John's interest peaked instantly. He'd never encountered anyone with a kinesis, though his frantic research in high school suggested that they did exist. The bureau was proof enough that there were others like him, but it was nice to see someone in person. John opened his mouth to say as much, but something in her mind warned him against it. She referred to her abilities as 'it' and 'the uncontrollable thing'. The fire wrought havoc on her family, on her life, so John was fairly certain she didn't want to talk about it.

Hellboy continued to brief them on what he knew, even as John secretly marveled in Liz's pyrokinesis. "So, if they get all the bones together, we're screwed. We've got to find the standing stones where they're hosting the ceremony."

"There are hundreds of stone circles in England, how can we possibly-"

Hellboy interrupted Abe, "Boyscout is going to read the mind of the accomplice."

Liz waved her hand through the cloud of smoke she'd just exhaled, "Wait, what accomplice?"

"The one who helped her get the bones out of the iron box. Whoever it is has to be human or they never would've gotten into the box."

"You think it's somebody at the church?"

"It's the best lead I've got so far."

Liz crossed one arm underneath her elbow and took another drag on the cigarette. The tip flared, burning faster than a cigarette typically would. She flicked the brown, filter end to knock the ash off. "And you're sure junior here can find this person?"

"I'm not a child," John griped, any fear he had of her power lost in his annoyance. "If you put me in the same town as him, I'll find him."

Though her expression remained neutral, her voice was heavy with doubt, "You think so, huh?"

John could feel Hellboy preparing to fend her off, but he didn't want the demon to stand up for him all the time. He scraped a few things out of Liz's head to use as proof, "You have special arrangements with the cook at the bureau because you don't like any of your meals to be prepared with butter. The guy who replaces him on Tuesday and Thursday won't prepare anything separate, so you eat meals out of the mini fridge in your room those days. You haven't told Red, wait, Hellboy that you and Abe are dating, though it's been going on for months."

"What?" Hellboy interjected.

The glow returned to Liz's eyes and her cigarette went up in a flash. When Abe came over to stand at her side, he commented, "Well, he is good."

John didn't want to push it much farther, but he had so much more he could use, "It started shortly after the Hyperborean case in 2002 when he rescued you from those underground creatures. It was tentative at first, but he pursued you."

"When the hell were you guys going to tell me all this?"

Liz threw the charred end of the filter on the road and stomped back to the van, growling, "When the time was right, Red."

"It started after you left," Abe explained as they all watched Liz get into the driver's seat and slam the door.

"I left because I was mad at Manning, not at you guys. You could've called."

"You don't always carry a phone."

Hellboy got quiet at that. His fight with Manning came to the forefront of his mind. John studied the demon's profile as he watched the memory. The director of the bureau had authorized a bomb to be fitted into one of the other supernatural agents and had given Hellboy the detonator in case something happened. It rubbed Hellboy in all the wrong ways then and still did now. The homunculus, Roger, had panicked when he was awakened and killed one of the BPRD's men, but hadn't shown an ounce of aggression outside of missions since that moment.

From the few days John had spent with the demon, he knew that one of Hellboy's biggest pet peeves was being treated as anything other than a human and suggesting that he should approach another agent with that kind of mindless fear had set Hellboy off. The demon hadn't screamed at the man, just quit the moment the mission was done. Considering that the bureau was Hellboy's life, his actions spoke louder than he ever could.

Liz rolled down the window, shouting, "Get your asses in the van. I'm leaving."

Abe chuckled and complied, but Hellboy hung back and John stayed with him.

"What made you return to the bureau?" John asked.

Hellboy shrugged, "I was doing the same work out there that I was doing here, except I knew there were people here who needed me to watch their backs."

"Like Roger."

"Yeah."

Liz's annoyed tone cut the air again, "Now, Red, or I'll make you walk back."

Hellboy cast a glance at John with a smirk. The thought came through clearly, as though Hellboy was directing it at him, 'You get used to her.'

John laughed.

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When they got back to the church, mass was in the middle of the evening prayers. The agents could hear the collective voice of the choir on the open lawn. Hellboy recognized the hymn, but didn't know all the words, which was rare. His adoptive father had been a devout Catholic and Hellboy spent a lot of his early years learning Trevor Bruttenholm's faith. It was possible that he wasn't more familiar with the hymn because the Wells church was Anglican instead of Roman Catholic. It was a branch of the Roman Catholic faith, but there were a few differences.

Ignoring the disdainful looks of the life-size statues guarding the church's exterior, Hellboy led the group through the entryway. Abe had donned his typical trench coat, hat, sunglasses, and fake beard to hide himself from the public eye. Inside the worship center, Hellboy knew that Abe could be running around completely naked and no one would notice, because the attention of the congregation would undoubtedly fall on Hellboy.

There were a few gasps from the closest pews as Hellboy entered the church. Some of the faithful jumped out of their seats, running into the legs of others as they tried to back away from the demon. Others stayed rooted in the pew, their lips moving with chants that they hoped would defend them against evil. Others still crossed themselves or started crying. They noticed him slowly, the panic rippling through the crowd as people turned to discover what the others were whispering about. One woman in a blue velvet dress shrieked and the remainder of the crowd turned in their seats.

"Gotta love mass," Hellboy grumbled.

On his left, Liz's slim frame was tense and rigid. She scanned the crowd carefully, one hand resting on her belt in front of her gun, the other curled in a fist by her hip. Hellboy appreciated her concern, but even if the masses did become homicidal and throw themselves at him to protect the church, he couldn't let Liz shoot them.

Something soft brushed his human hand and Hellboy looked down to find John's fingers sliding through his palm. Hellboy tightened his grip around the gesture, silently thanking John for it. Neither of them acknowledged it otherwise. Somehow, the kid had picked up on Hellboy's insecurities in a matter of days when it took most people years to learn them. Actually, years weren't enough for some, even for some of the other psychics that worked with him. Hellboy tried to let people's reactions roll off of him, tried to make sure his pain was carefully buried, but he wasn't always successful.

At the front of the room, the priest chanting at the pulpit faltered and his choirs followed suit. The beautiful swell of voices broke apart like a wave hitting a cliff. Fragments of hymn floated down to them for several seconds as the last dedicated singer realized she was performing a solo where the hymnal didn't call for it. The bishop rose from a chair near the altar as the group of agents approached.

"Bishop Dunn, we need to talk," Hellboy stated in the trembling silence.

Liz reinforced him with a simple, "Now."

The graying clergyman kept his voice low, though it carried easily in the room, "Son, we're in the middle of mass." He smoothed one hand down the chest of his elaborate gold and white robes as if to bring attention to the ceremonial garb.

"I know, father, it can't wait."

The other priest was frozen at the pulpit with his arms raised over his head for whatever rite he'd been in the middle of chanting. As the congregation began to panic and move towards the door, the priest's frightened stare finally broke. He turned to the faithful and soothed them the best he could. Though he didn't look nearly as old as the bishop, he seemed to have plenty of experience with public speaking. His quiet words of reassurance and dismissal got the masses moving towards the door in a relatively civilized manner.

"Perhaps we should go to my office," Bishop Dunn sighed, leading the way down the side hallway.

Hellboy stopped at the slight tug on his hand. John wasn't moving. His eyes were fixed on the open doorway that lead into the crypts, his skin a pasty white like all the blood had drained from it.

"There's something wrong," John whispered.

Hellboy looked to the crypt entrance, trusting John's instincts. He couldn't feel anything out of place yet, but the kid was much more sensitive to it than he was. "Go with the bishop," Hellboy told Liz, letting go of the kid's hand as John moved towards the altar. "Have him gather everybody that works here so John can read them."

Liz didn't comment on the handholding thing, for which Hellboy was grateful. He knew he'd hear about it later, but he'd get a reprieve until the case was wrapped up. "What is it?"

"I don't know yet."

John slipped under the rope that cordoned off the crypts and Hellboy jogged to catch up with him. By the time he got down the first set of stairs, the boy was nowhere in sight. "Damn it," Hellboy grunted and picked up his speed.

He ran down the second set of stairs, not bothering with the light switch. Even in complete darkness, he could still see and he had a good idea of where the kid was headed. Hellboy took the first left, the rows of the dead whipping by him. Ahead of him, he could hear the slap of John's tennis shoes. The kid's silhouette became a dark smear on a field of orange light as something in the round crypt caught fire.

Hellboy entered the room on John's heels. The interior of the stone sarcophagus was a bonfire. Hellboy could smell the gasoline that fueled it, could practically taste the heavy odor on the air. Within the blaze, the skeleton of the guardian glowed with white-blue flames. The shriek of the departing spirit was quiet to Hellboy, but John fell to his knees and clapped his hands over his ears. Hellboy kicked over the empty can of petrol as he came further into the room. He moved around the defiled crypt and knelt to pick up a still smoking match. The charcoal head crumbled between his fingers.

John choked on a gasp and looked up to lock eyes with Hellboy, "He's still here."

"Where?"

"In the crypts. He's running." The kid's gaze got distant, almost glazed as he talked. "But he's going deeper, not towards the entrance."

"There's no way out back there."

"Yes there is."

Hellboy hauled the boy to his feet and pushed him towards the closer of the two doors, "Show me or we're going to lose him."

They sprinted through the catacombs. As they wound deeper into the tunnels and the light from the fire faded, the boy slowed to a jog and put his hands out to find the walls. He reached past the wall and into one of the hollowed out resting places, but Hellboy grabbed his wrist before he could touch a corpse.

"I can see in the dark," he said, guiding the kid's hand to his jacket. "Just hang on and tell me where to go."

"Okay."

Hellboy struggled to keep to the kid's pace. His longer stride occasionally came back far enough that John tripped over his heels. After the third time John nearly crashed into Hellboy's back, he loosened his grip and let his fingers trail to the hem of the jacket. The distance it put between them helped.

The catacombs narrowed. Hellboy followed John's every direction, but couldn't hear or see anyone else. The walls got close enough that Hellboy was scraping against them as he ran. Behind him, John's breathing was heavy. The kid clearly wasn't a sprinter. Fortunately, the floor had a gentle downward slope that made it easier.

"Left here," John instructed.

Hellboy turned down the narrow passageway, bushing away some low hanging cobwebs as he passed through the arch. There was nothing at the end of the hall but a large medieval engraving of the church and bishop. Parading across the bottom edge were a dozen mounted knights with frozen banners flying overhead.

"Dead end, kid," Hellboy said, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt.

John pushed past him, which was no easy feat in the narrow hall, "No, it's not."

He felt the wall blindly, working his fingers across the carvings to an edge that was worn smooth. Hellboy realized what it was before John could find the hidden latch. The door swung away from them slowly, the sound of grinding stone filling the passage. Hellboy slid John behind him, in case their quarry was waiting on the other side of the door. The tunnel beyond was empty.

"It leads to the bishop's palace. He thinks he's safe now," John explained in a whisper as he grabbed the edge of Hellboy's jacket.

Hellboy entered the tunnel, careful to keep his footsteps light. If his quarry thought it was safe, then there was no need to run, "He must be really damn fast if we couldn't catch him."

"No, he just got enough of a head start."

A flight of carved stone steps led them to another door, this one a relatively modern replacement made of heavy wood. Hellboy turned the knob and eased it open, wincing as daylight flooded the tunnel. The room it opened on was a sitting room of some kind. Four tall windows along one wall let sun touch every corner of the vast room. Despite that, the room seemed very dark. It could've been the deep green paint on the walls, or the thick, velvet curtains that draped from ceiling to floor, but Hellboy thought it was something else. It was concealing someone dangerous.

There wasn't much cover in the room. Two brown leather couches crouched over a plush rug with a half dozen wing chairs clustered near them. A metal flashlight lay on the seat of one of the chairs. The only sound in the room was the steady ticking of the grandfather clock on the far side of the room.

Hellboy stepped into the open, scanning the empty space cautiously. He removed John's hand from his jacket and motioned with an open palm for him to stay where he was.

"But…" John started to say.

Hellboy clamped his hand over the kid's mouth before he got any farther. The kid gave him a hard glare for it and yanked his wrist. Figuring John knew something he didn't, he let the kid draw his hand away.

"He's not going to attack us," John said and went to the wall with the windows.

John threw back one of the floor length curtains, scaring the figure behind it enough that he let out a shriek. Stunned, Hellboy furrowed his brow at the small child. It was the altar boy he'd met when he'd arrived at the church. The bishop had called him Christopher.

The smell of urine hit his nose and he looked down in time to see a dark stain spread on the front of the child's pants. John crouched down next to the boy and rubbed soothing circles on his back.

"It's okay," John crooned.

The little boy hiccupped and rubbed his fists against his eyes, "I'm… I'm sorry Mr. Hellboy, sir."

"What were you doin' down there? Last time I checked, kids were supposed to be afraid of dead people."

The little blonde hiccupped again, "I play down there all the time. God has their souls now. There's no need to be afraid of bones."

John looked up at Hellboy, "He smells like gasoline."

"Did you set that fire in the crypt?"

Christopher nodded miserably.

John's eyes went wide. When he spoke again, his words were near a whisper, "He was just doing what the bishop told him."

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Insert dramatic music here.

I'm thinking this will wrap up in another three or four chapters, but I've been wrong about that before so maybe I should stop guessing. I think I might be writing some Fruits Basket fan fiction after this. Weird, right? I doubt I'm done with Hellboy, but this other plot bunny won't leave me alone.


	9. The Secret

Thanks to all of you who've been leaving reviews. You know who you are! You always make my day when you stop to leave me a comment.

For the Red and Boyscout community, your wishes have been granted. Enjoy.

Also, I didn't proofread this chapter very well. As always, if you find any glaring mistakes, point them out so I can fix them.

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Both Liz and Abe turned to look at Hellboy when he came slamming into the bishop's office. She was seated in one of the chairs facing the desk and Abe was standing at the side with his arm propped up on the chair back. Sensing Hellboy's anger, Liz rose to her feet.

"You son of a bitch," Hellboy growled, pointing an accusing finger at Bishop Dunn. "You brought us here hoping we would get rid of your ghost before it could tell anyone that the bones were missing."

The bishop's mouth tightening and the creases at the corners of his eyes deepened into canyons, "How dare you make such claims."

John came in holding Christopher on his hip. They'd found the boy a change of clothes, but he still reeked heavily of petrol. The bishop fixed the child with a steely glare that made him hide his face in John's shoulder. John returned the glare and the bishop abruptly fell back into his chair, shock overtaking his features as he reached to rub his temples.

Hellboy leaned on the desk, a smile playing dangerously with his scowl, "When you've got a psychic as powerful as mine, they're not claims. What'd she offer you? Power? Sex?"

The bishop regained his composure, but was careful to keep his eyes off of John and the boy. He sank deeper in his chair, gripping the armrests with clawed fingers. Though there was nowhere the bishop could run, Abe came around the desk and blocked him in. The icthyo sapien crossed his arms over his chest.

When Dunn didn't answer, John said, "Youth. She offered him never ending youth." Hoisting Chris a little higher on his hip, John added, "But they were having sex too."

Liz wrinkled her nose, "Gross."

Bishop Dunn stood, shouting, "I want all of you gone, now! You are no longer welcome in this house of God."

"I'll go when God tells me that himself," Hellboy snapped, his tail lashing the air behind him.

He'd dealt with hundreds of humans over the years that were tempted by powers that were beyond them, but it pissed him off when it was a man of the cloth, especially someone as influential as a bishop was. Hellboy knew better than anyone that everybody had a price, he just wished it had taken more than sex and the promise of a pretty face to make a man of God sacrifice humanity.

"You'll tell us where the resurrection is taking place," Blue told the bishop calmly, but with an edge to his voice.

Bishop Dunn stayed sullen and silent, so Hellboy looked to John. The kid came forward, handing off the sniffling child to Liz. She held the boy at arm's length. With brows arched high and an unlit cigarette hanging off her lip, she wasn't even trying to hide her discomfort with the situation. If Hellboy wasn't so busy being angry, he would've laughed.

"Here's the deal," John explained. "You can either tell me where the standing stones are, or I can dig it out of your head. Let me assure you that you don't want me to dig it out."

"Do it anyway. He's had his chance," Hellboy told John.

The kid gave Hellboy a troubled glance, but reached for the bishop's head. Before his fingertips brushed the liver-spotted skin, the bishop spoke, "There is no need for that." He slapped John's hand away, the action drawing a low growl from Hellboy. "There is a lake in Wales that looks like the head of a wolf when you come at it from the south. The stones are on an island where the eye should be."

"Wales is a big place, you expect me to be satisfied with that?"

John told him the rest, "It's in the Snowdonia National Park, east of Rhiwbryfdir. It has no name."

Suddenly, the kid screamed and pitched backwards. Hellboy caught him a few inches from the ground. The kid's shoes scraped across the hardwood flooring as he convulsed. Hellboy pressed his stone hand against John's chest to keep him from hurting himself. John's screams gurgled and cracked and blood poured freely from his nose and the corners of his eyes. In a panic, Hellboy drew his gun on the bishop, fairly certain that he had something to do with John's fit. Abe did the same, but the bishop chuckled. Setting Christopher outside the door, Liz returned with her gun leveled.

"The lady's knight has been waiting for you to contact me. Fysmaldeth's powers are unpolluted by human blood, so your little psychic won't stand much of a chance against him. Even across thousands of kilometers, he-"

The bishop jerked slightly, his face going slack before a fountain of red oozed out of his nose and mouth. His head dropped forward onto the desk, a pool forming rapidly underneath it. There'd been no shot fired, not that Hellboy had heard. He glanced at Abe's gun and then Liz's, but neither barrel was smoking.

John had one hand extended towards the bishop. His convulsions stopped and, even though his head was resting heavily in the crook of Hellboy's arm, his attention was fixed on Bishop Dunn. As the blood pool found the edge of the desk and started dripping onto the floor, John dropped his hand.

Abe pulled off a glove and leaned over the bishop's hunched body to take his pulse. When Abe confirmed that he was dead, Hellboy looked down at John. The kid's bloodshot eyes met Hellboy's gaze unashamedly.

"He was using the bishop to channel his power. I… I had to…"

"It's okay, kid. I get it," Hellboy tried to ease him.

"He can only get to me when I open my mind to read, but I wasn't expecting… I didn't think…" John's voice trailed off into incoherent mumbles as he slipped out of consciousness.

Hellboy put his gun away and picked John up. Again, he marveled out how light the kid was. If hadn't seen John mostly naked, he'd think the kid was anorexic. He cradled John's back and hips with his stone hand and held the boy's legs up with his left.

Liz stared at the bishop's still body, "Did he just kill him with his brain?"

"You can make fire with yours," Hellboy answered.

"Yeah, but he's just a psychic. Did you know he could do that?"

"No."

Abe put his glove back on and added, "I don't think we've ever had a psychic who could do something like that. He's still very green, but with a little training…" He shrugged to finish the thought.

"I'm taking him back to the hotel so he can sleep this off-"

"It's not a hangover, Red. He's probably got some serious damage."

The tracks of blood running down John's cheeks made Hellboy think the same, though he wasn't sure what to do for him. There were hospitals he could take John to, but the kid had no real records since he was living under an assumed name. The BPRD would pick up the tab without any fuss, so Hellboy was more concerned with the bureau finding out about his identity. Eventually, they would find it anyway.

"Will you two stay and clean this up?"

"Of course," Abe said. "And we'll work on arranging transport to Wales. You should take him to Shepton. It's the closest town with a real hospital."

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Two hours after he'd made it to the emergency room with John, Hellboy was still sprawled in a waiting room chair, chewing on his nail beds. The hospital staff had rushed John into the back the moment they arrived, but, other than someone unsuccessfully trying to get a medical history from him, Hellboy hadn't heard much since then. When he'd gone to the nurse's station to ask about the kid, the woman working the desk had the gall to ask if he was family. Hellboy had barely managed to bite his tongue against the obvious snarky quip and stalk back to his seat.

Dozens of people came and went while he was waiting. Hellboy could tell he was in a small town by the type of wounds that came through the automatic doors. Instead of the gunshots and stab wounds that were typical for a big city, Hellboy saw a driver who hit a cow on the road, a man who'd had a heart attack while he was out in his fields, and man who'd somehow managed to cut off his big toe with a shovel. The last one sat around for a while and had even asked for Hellboy's autograph before he got called into the back.

The TV in the corner of the room was tuned to BBC. Hellboy stared at the glowing screen, but didn't hear much of what was being said. Occasionally, a word or two would sink in, letting him put the stories together on his own. An older woman sat across from Hellboy working diligently on a knitted scarf. Her needles clacked loudly over the television. She'd come in with the man who'd cut off his toe and didn't seem overly concerned about his prognosis. The white plume of hair rising several inches off her head suggested that she was the man's mother or grandmother.

"They really should tell you how your boyfriend is getting along."

Hellboy blinked and glanced away from the TV, a dark negative of the glowing screen hovered in the center of his vision, a testament to how long he'd been staring at it. "My boyfriend?"

The woman nodded and slid her square-frame glasses down her nose so she could examine one of her knots, "The man you keep inquiring about. You clearly care about him. I've been in this emergency room many times, so I've seen the way people act while they wait. You have too many nervous ticks to be just a working partner, but you don't pace, so you're not family."

Hellboy's laugh came out as a burst of air and little else. "I doubt it was a lack of pacing that gave that away."

She gave him a look over her glasses that Hellboy easily interpreted as 'don't be an ass'.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's alright, it's just your nerves talking," she reassured him, gathering her knitting in one hand so she could pat his knee. "I'll see what's going on."

The old woman got up and tottered over to the nurse's station, addressing the nurse by name. They talked quietly for a minute or two, then the old woman came back to her seat. She smiled warmly and continued knitting, "She'll get a doctor for you."

"Thanks."

"So, are you two a couple?" she asked, her tone begging for juicy details he didn't have.

He took a breath to speak and the woman leaned forward and lowered her knitting. Hellboy broke into a chuckle and shook his head. "No, we're not."

"Why not?" She didn't hide her disappointment.

He shrugged, his eyes gravitating back to the television, "I'm too old for him."

"Oh, bosh." The woman slapped his arm with the flats of her needles. "I doubt a man like you lets anything get in his way when he wants something."

Arching one brow, Hellboy flatly said, "I'm sixty-seven and he's nineteen."

Her mouth fell open into a surprised 'O' that was quickly overtaken by a sly smile that made her look younger than she was, "An old dog can since still catch a pup every now and again. Listen, time ticks away whether or not we're watching the clock and life is too short to be spent staring at your birth date."

"Yeah, but is that fair to him? What if I'm not around as long as he is?"

"God bless the poor child and I dearly hope this is not the case, but what if you were to lose him today? Would you regret not acting?"

Bile rose to the back of Hellboy's throat at the idea. He felt as if he'd swallowed a hot rock and it was sitting heavily in the bottom of his stomach. Shifting his weight in the uncomfortable, barely cushioned chair didn't make him feel any better. He got up to walk the length of the cramped waiting room, weaving around the unevenly spaced chairs. "Yes," Hellboy finally said, stopping to look at her. "It's something I would regret."

"Then you'd better keep that in mind," she told him and nodded in the direction of the doors leading deeper into the hospital.

A doctor pushed through them, reading over a thin file as he made his way into the waiting room, "Who is here with John Myers?"

Hellboy hurried over to him, "Me, that's me."

The man raised his eyes from the file and then kept raising them until he found Hellboy's face. His eyes were impossibly wide for a moment before the doctor could regain the reassuring calm that every doctor seemed to exude. "We took a scan of John's brain and there aren't any ruptured aneurisms that we could find. He does have a fair bit of bruising, which is causing his brain to swell slightly. That's the cause of the bleeding from his eyes and nose. Was Mr. Myers in an auto collision of some kind?"

"Among other things. Is he going to be okay?"

"It's just the damndest thing, there's no contusion on the outside of his head to suggest he'd hit any-"

"Doc, is he going to be okay?"

The doctor flipped the chart closed and scratched the back of his head with the corner of it, "To tell you that, I would need a better medical history. If this is something that's happened before, he could be in immediate danger…"

"His medical history is classified," Hellboy lied. "If it was caused by an outside source, is he going to be okay?"

"As long as he takes it easy, then he should be fine. He's going to have a bad headache for a few days."

Hellboy's relief washed over him like a warm wave. He wanted to pick the doctor up in a bear hug, but resisted the urge. Pulling out his BPRD badge, he explained quickly, "A member of my agency is going to come by and collect all files and information you have about John. I'd appreciate it if you'd cooperate with him."

The doctor studied the silver shield with a furrowed brow, "Of… of course. But medical records are protected by law against-"

"He'll bring all the appropriate paperwork."

Hellboy knew that all of the files would end up on Manning's desk within a day. It made him nervous. The kid's past would be blown wide open and Hellboy could only hope that he'd be able to convince his boss that John needed to remain on their payroll.

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John jerked out of sleep, the dream that woke him fading into ungraspable wisps the moment he opened his eyes. Whatever it was, he knew it wasn't his dream. His head was pounding, but it wasn't as bad as it was when the knight had finished with him and it certainly wasn't the worst headache he'd ever had. It was more like an annoyance.

The room he was in was dark. A faint glow from on open doorway illuminated the edges of the furniture with a changing kaleidoscope of color. Though John couldn't hear the audio, he assumed there was a TV on in the adjoining room. He slowly recognized his surroundings as the hotel in Wells. He was lying on his stomach in bed. Someone must have redressed him, because he was in a pair of pajama pants from his bag and he could barely make out the shape of his clothes draped over one of the chairs by the window.

There was a bottle of pills on the bedside table. John picked it up and rotated it until he could see his fake name on the label. Vague, unclear memories of doctors leaning over him came to mind, but he wasn't entirely sure whether it was something he'd experienced or gleaned from someone else's head. The amber-colored bottle suggested it was an experience.

John set the pain pills next to the alarm clock and sat up. The throbbing in his head intensified with the change in positions, but faded quickly. As he became more alert, he caught a stream of thoughts coming from the neighboring room. He knew instantly that it was Hellboy. The demon was thinking about him and it made John flush. The hesitation Hellboy had been living behind was gone. John wasn't sure why and didn't really care.

John slid out of bed and padded to the door connecting their rooms, peering through the narrow opening. The demon was propped up on several pillows watching television. Since the screen was facing away from John, he couldn't tell what kind of show it was. Whatever it was, Hellboy was only giving it a fraction of his attention.

The blankets were pooled around the demon's feet, giving John an unobstructed view of Hellboy's tone body. John let his gaze wander up the demon's tight abs and linger on the broad chest that was lightly dusted with hair. He didn't need to see what was under the black boxers Hellboy was wearing, he remembered well enough.

Though Hellboy never took off his pants the first time they'd had sex, John wasn't surprised to see that his legs were just as well built as the rest of him. Even when the demon was at rest, there were deep lines of definition his thighs. The thick calf narrowed into a heel that looked a little like an animal hock and the end of Hellboy's feet were tipped with the curved points of cloven hooves instead of toes. John knew they were, but he was interested in exactly how his foot was shaped. It looked different without the makeshift shoes Hellboy wore.

The demon's keen senses kicked in and he realized he was being watched. He tensed slightly and sat up in bed, scanning the room for the source. His cover blown, John pushed open the adjoining door so Hellboy could see him.

"You think really loudly when you believe no one's listening," John said with a smile, leaning in the doorframe.

"You're awake." The statement was surprised.

"Yeah, well," John rubbed at his temple, "Somebody downstairs was having a nightmare about homicidal chutney."

"Seriously?"

"I think he's seen The Blob one too many times."

Hellboy grabbed the remote out of the mounds of bedspread and flipped the TV off, pitching the room into darkness. John stayed where he was until Hellboy got a lamp switched on. They studied each other from across the room, John sliding easily through Hellboy's thoughts and Hellboy reading his body language well enough to know what he wanted.

Instead of addressing it, Hellboy asked, "How's your head?"

"It's about how you'd expect it to be. Feels like somebody poured some broken glass in my ear and treated my skull like a martini shaker."

Hellboy threw his legs over the side of the bed, muttering, "You need to get some more sleep."

Before he could get up, John came over and wrapped his arms around the demon's neck. He kissed Hellboy fiercely, biting at his lips. Hellboy opened his mouth to the kiss. The deep grumble that rolled from the demon made John shudder pleasantly. He crawled into Hellboy's lap, letting his thighs slide around the demon's hips. The loose pants he was wearing bunched up around his knees, but he scarcely noticed because Hellboy's flesh hand was kneading his ass through the thin fabric.

Hellboy broke away from the kiss to mouth John's throat. As the wide, hot expanse of Hellboy's tongue slid along John's jugular, John let out a stuttered groan and closed his eyes. Aside from some uncoordinated fumbling with a drama student in high school, John hadn't been with anyone but Hellboy. He wasn't sure whether it was something the demon would want to know, or if it would make him feel guilty for what happened in the Fay courts. Either way, John didn't think that foreplay was an appropriate time to bring it up.

"You sure you want to jump straight into this?" Hellboy breathed against his ear, his voice a gruff rumble.

John slid his hands to the sides of Hellboy's face and touched his parted lips to Hellboy's mouth, pulling away before the demon could engage him properly, "You can take me on a date when we get back stateside."

Hellboy grinned, "Deal."

John sat back on Hellboy's legs and brushed his fingertips down the demon's chest. "I'm glad you changed your mind," he admitted, looking up at the demon shyly.

"Me too, but…" Hellboy hesitated.

John didn't have to read his thoughts to know what he was worried about, "My head is fine."

John could feel Hellboy's hardness growing beneath him, pressing into the back of John's thigh. It was endearing that he could be so aroused and still be willing to stop if John decided he needed to get some sleep. Though, John's own erection was tenting the front of his pants and there wasn't much of a chance of getting to sleep until he found some release. He let Hellboy draw him close, enjoying the deceivingly gentle caress of his stone hand across his back.

"You were bleeding out of your eyes earlier today, kiddo. I'd say that's not fine."

John's response was dry, but amused, "Oh Hellboy, your pillow talk is so sexy, don't stop."

He smiled at the demon's scowl, yelping when Hellboy pinched one of his ass cheeks. Laughing, John kissed Hellboy again. The demon's annoyance left John doing most of the work. When he couldn't coax Hellboy into opening his mouth, John sighed and set his forehead under Hellboy's horn stubs.

"I was kidding."

"I'm not," he wasn't angry, just worried.

Hellboy eyed him from their close proximity, his flesh hand working slowly over the muscle in John's butt. The memory of him collapsing surfaced and startled John. From the outside, he realized how alarming it had been. All he could remember was how much pain he'd been in, and that it had to stop. He'd reached out and pushed at the source as hard as he could and then he'd woken up in the other room. Since he was unconscious for the drive to the hospital, he'd missed Hellboy reaching over to check on him every few seconds.

John sobered and reassured him, "I really am okay." He brushed his lips over one of Hellboy's sharp cheekbones, "I'm sorry if I worried you."

"Don't be. You did what was necessary to survive."

John sat up straight, tensing in Hellboy's arms. They were words he'd heard before, words that came from the only doctor in the asylum he'd trusted enough to confide in. Hellboy's brows drew together at his reaction. Looking into the demon's eyes, John wondered if he'd still take him to bed if he knew the truth. He'd find out eventually. There was no way John could keep it from him forever and the longer it stayed buried, the worse it would be when it was uncovered. But John couldn't face bringing it up yet. Not yet.

John managed to cover his tension with a genuine realization, "I killed him, didn't I?"

"I don't want to say you'll get used to it, because you won't, but the first time is always the hardest. If you become a full-fledged agent, you'll have to pull your gun on another human being from time to time," Hellboy was trying to soothe him, but didn't realize that John was hanging on the words 'first time'.

John buried his face in the demon's neck, his body shaking as he choked back a sob.

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Hellboy shifted his arms up higher on the kid's back. He understood what John was going through. The first time he'd had to put bullets into a human, he'd spend half a day in a church. Eventually, his father had come to get him and they'd talked for hours about the evil of men and how they brought suffering to others through their actions. Trevor had quoted Edmund Burke, telling him that all that was necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing. The bureau was founded on the principle.

Knowing the mood was gone, Hellboy laid the kid back in the bed. Though he wasn't making any noise, tears slid down John's face. Hellboy wished he knew what to do to make it better, but he'd never been any good at comforting people. Really, he was lucky if he made it through the day without pissing anyone off. He settled on kissing the kid and pulling the blankets up around is shoulders.

"Get some sleep."

When Hellboy reached over to turn off the lamp, John suddenly grabbed his neck and yanked him down. Their teeth clicked together from the force of the kiss. Hellboy slid his tongue against John's, invading the kid's mouth. John's quiet sounds of desperation only served to fuel his returning arousal, but Hellboy wasn't sure why John's emotions had flipped. He tried to push the kid away. The more he tried to disentangle himself, the tighter John's grip got.

After a moment of struggling with each other, John finally let Hellboy pull back. The kid's breath was coming out hard and fast, his anguish still evident on his face. "Please, Hellboy. Please, just make it go away for a while," John pleaded.

Hellboy's chest tightened with John's need. He knew it wouldn't solve anything, that the kid would still have his regrets the following day, but he was loathe to deny him. Speaking wasn't necessary; he let John see his acceptance in his mind. The kid closed his eyes, a relieved whisper escaping his throat before Hellboy claimed his mouth again.

Hellboy jerked the blankets out from between them and shoved them off the side of the bed. Letting his flesh hand crawl down the back of John's pajama pants, Hellboy followed the band of elastic with his fingers and carefully pulled them off John's half-hard cock. John trembled under his hands as he stripped him. Without the cloud of Fay magic in his head, Hellboy could keep his need in check. He managed to get all of the kid's clothes off without tearing anything.

The kid pushed Hellboy's boxers down his legs, but Hellboy had to get out of bed to finish taking them off. Like before, John's eyes went to his erection as it was exposed. There wasn't the same apprehension, just hunger and desire that made Hellboy impossibly harder.

While John appraised him, Hellboy returned the attention. With the kid's naked body spread out in his bed, Hellboy had a hard time thinking of anything he'd ever wanted more. John had one hand tangled in the sheets above his head, his swollen lips partially open and wet from Hellboy's assault on them. His body was lean and breathtaking, but Hellboy tracked a number of scars on the pale flesh. There were a few scattered on his thighs, small circular scars that made Hellboy think of chicken pox scars… or cigarette burns. Almost as soon as Hellboy saw them, John started to draw the sheet across his legs.

Hellboy climbed over John, taking the sheet from him, "Don't, it's alright."

"They… They're…"

"They're just scars," Hellboy rumbled and sat back on his knees, drawing John upright.

The kid hooked his arms over Hellboy's shoulders and let him maneuver him so he was straddling Hellboy's thighs again. John nuzzled Hellboy's jaw, just beneath his ear. Hellboy groaned pleasantly at the touch.

They needed lube. John hadn't had much of a chance to get cleaned up, so there was probably still plenty of slick leftover from the first time, but Hellboy doubted that it would be enough. Gripping John's hips carefully with his right hand, Hellboy picked the kid up and carried him to the bathroom. John didn't seem to mind, or even notice. He wrapped his legs around Hellboy's waist and nibbled on the lobe of his ear. When John added teeth to the mix, Hellboy couldn't stop his growl. Surprised, John stopped and leaned back, giving Hellboy a wide-eyed look. Hellboy set the kid on the bathroom counter and pressed him against eth mirror with a consuming kiss.

Only once he was certain he'd invaded every corner of John's mouth did he break away. John leaned forward to chase his lips, blushing when he realized what he was doing and saw Hellboy's smug grin.

"Hold that thought," Hellboy laughed and grabbed the leather bag that was one of his few pieces of luggage.

He dumped it out on the cream-colored, Formica counter next to John's leg. His razor and toothbrush clattered into the sink, but he didn't bother to retrieve them. The only thing he was interested in was the small bottle of KY lube he kept for slow nights watching porn. He dropped the bottle in John's hand and scooped the kid off the counter.

Hellboy froze, his gaze stuck on the kid's back in the mirror. There were dozens of the circular scars clustered on his shoulders and back, mixed with other, longer scars. "Kid…" Hellboy didn't know what to ask, or if he even should.

"Don't, please. I'll tell you later," John whispered, rubbing his body against Hellboy's. "Please."

Hellboy faltered, standing half in the bathroom, half in the bedroom. The marks on the kid all looked old. He wanted to know, but it could wait.

They went back to bed, John pouring a lake of lubricant into his palm while Hellboy carried him. He met Hellboy's bright, yellow eyes as he smeared a liberal amount on his tail. Hellboy grinned. Very few of his sexual partners viewed his tail the same way he did. One girl he dated in seventy-three had outright banned him from even touching her with it while they had sex, which Hellboy thought was her loss because it was incredibly nimble. John might not have been so keen on it if he hadn't already had it inside him once.

Some of the excess lube ran down John's wrist and dripped onto Hellboy's thigh. Before he could lose the rest, John grabbed Hellboy's impressive erection and spread the lube around until the thick member was glistening.

"Turn around," Hellboy said softly, nudging John's hip with two fingers.

John turned, then bent forward to lay his head on the pillow, leaving his ass raised. Hellboy took a lungful of air through his teeth at the sight, the hiss of it a perfect accompaniment to John's staccato breathing.

He smoothed his hand over one of the boy's ass cheeks, smiling at the red mark his pinch had left behind. Smearing a little of the lube from his tail onto his fingers, Hellboy circled John's puckered entrance with the pad of his index finger. The kid shivered and his hole compulsively tightened.

Hellboy eased the first digit into him, leaning over John so he could murmur into his ear, "You've got to relax. There's no Fay magic to heal you when we're done and I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm trying," John gasped.

Reaching down with his stone hand, he pulled the kid onto all fours so his back ran along the curve of Hellboy's chest and abdomen. He worked John open slowly. It could've taken two minutes, or twenty, it didn't matter much to Hellboy. Only when John's interior muscles relented to him did he move on to using his tail.

He slicked the appendage in, feeling out the kid's sweet spot with the tip. It wasn't difficult to determine when he'd found it. John's head dropped to hang between his shoulders and a low, keening moan ripped from his throat. Hellboy's cock twitched in response. He twisted his tail against John's prostate, finding primal satisfaction in the way John shifted back to take him deeper.

Precome ran down Hellboy's cock to mingle with the lube. It ached fiercely and Hellboy wanted to let go and drive himself into John with abandon. It was only his rigid self-discipline that kept him from it. The kid was relaxing more, accepting the intrusion more easily than when they started. Hellboy scraped up what scattered patience he had left and stretched it so the kid would be ready when he entered him.

There was no more pain in the kid's voice, even when Hellboy curled his tail back on itself. John reached to grip Hellboy's bicep, his nails biting into his skin. His random movements to get more of Hellboy's tail had become a rhythm. He pushed back against each of Hellboy's thrusts, rubbing against his erection in the process. Hellboy growled and released his hold on John's chest so he could grab the kid's hips.

"No," John cried, nearly babbling, "More. Please, more. Hellboy…"

Hellboy's control snapped. He slid his tail clear of the kid's body, watching for a moment as the guardian ring of muscle slowly closed over the void he'd dedicated so much time to preparing. Lube trickled down the insides of John's thighs, the trail going nearly to his knees. Hellboy spread the kid's cheeks and took his cock in hand, lining it up with John's hole.

Something imbedded in the rational side of his brain urged him to say, "Just relax," even though the kid was begging for him to get inside him.

John's strangled cry of, "Wait," made Hellboy's heart stop.

His mind kick-started and he frantically wondered if he was going too fast or if he'd done something the kid didn't like.

"Wait," John said again, looking over his shoulder, "I want to face you."

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There was something very savage and primeval about the demon in bed. Aside from the flash of concern when John had asked for him to stop, the only thing John could get from him was baser instincts and desires. He didn't think that Hellboy was blocking him from his thoughts; it was what genuine lust did to Hellboy.

John had no basis for comparison, so he wasn't sure whether or not it was normal for a man. He'd initially assumed that the Fay magic had made him that way the first time, but he was fairly certain it wasn't the case this time. John reveled in the simplicity, letting it sweep away everything but his need for release. For a time anyway, he could let go of a few of the things weighing him down.

John rolled onto his back and spread his legs so Hellboy could settle between them. The demon lifted John's legs, positioning them with his knees hooked over Hellboy's elbows. Their eyes met as Hellboy planted his hands on the bed near John's shoulders and pressed the head of his cock against John's entrance. John nodded. The pain was overwhelming, but so was the pleasure. John arched his back as Hellboy worked into him. The demon's mouth went to his neck, sucking and biting and taking some of the edge off.

Hellboy didn't wait until he was buried fully inside John; he retreated and plunged in a little deeper with his return thrust. Each thrust brought him closer to being completely sheathed. The pain lessened with Hellboy's new tactic, leaving John gasping and clutching at the demon's shoulders. Once he was as deep as he could get, Hellboy started a more regular pace.

Anything that wasn't a pleasure of the flesh fled from John's mind. He screamed his lover's name, forgetting where and even when he was. Hellboy consumed every aspect of him, his body, his mouth, his mind. The demon's rhythm replaced John's heartbeat. John met Hellboy's thrusts without being conscious of it, his muscles reacting solely to Hellboy's command.

The thick head of Hellboy's cock scraped John's prostate with each movement in and out, making John's eyelids flutter wildly. Heat spread through John's body. He could already feel his release coming. His hand skidded across his stomach towards his erection, but Hellboy caught his wrist.

"Not yet," Hellboy rumbled.

A pathetic mewl that John barely recognized came from his mouth. He would've blushed if his body wasn't already so hot. Hellboy was like a furnace above him, burning him, claiming him. Sweat dripped down John's chest and across his forehead. His hair clung to his skin, getting in his eyes. It didn't bother John, but Hellboy released one of his legs and smoothed his bangs off his face. The demon slid his hand through John's hair to cup the back of his head.

Between gasps for breath, they're mouths touched and lingered. Hellboy's thrusts strengthened until he was pounding into John's small frame. The demon's emotions were powerful, crawling into John without him having to seek them out. It was obvious he was just as close to climax as John was, but was schooling his body to hold it at bay. As much as John admired Hellboy's control, John needed release. His body shook for it.

John clawed at Hellboy's sweat-slicked back, whimpering, "Hellboy, oh god! I- I…"

Understanding flit through the demon's mind, but he didn't reach for John's erection. When John went for it himself, Hellboy stopped him again. John twisted his hand in Hellboy's grasp and pressed his stomach against the demon, trying to get any stimulation he could.

Hellboy's voice rolled over John's ear as a rush of affection hit him, "Come for me, baby."

Unable to resist, John did as he was told, spilling ribbons of semen between them. After a few more thrusts, Hellboy followed him. His release was scorching, his roar lasting through his climax. As the euphoria faded, John studied Hellboy's face. Hellboy leaned down to press his lips to the corner of John's mouth and John shifted his arms up around the demon's neck. He brushed his cheek against Hellboy's rough stubble.

When Hellboy pulled out of him, John couldn't hide his wince. Cum spilled out of him. John touched the mess on his stomach and rubbed it between two fingers. Sticking his tongue out, John dropped his head into the pillows.

"What a mess," John laughed weakly.

Hellboy got up and went to the bathroom. He came back a moment later with a wet towel. Gently, the demon cleaned John up. Hellboy's lips found John's ear and neck as he swiped the cool cloth over his genitals. After he's cleaned him, Hellboy tossed the towel to the floor and curled around John. Even as John drifted, he wondered if the demon would have the same fondness for him when all his secrets surfaced.

For the time being, John settled into the curve of Hellboy's body and dropped into a dreamless sleep.

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TBC…

Le gasp! Again with the really long sex scene. I have no idea how they've been coming out this long. I used to have a hard time getting two pages out of a scene, but now they're short if they're four!


	10. The Departure

Sorry this update took a little longer than the others. Sadly, I work retail and this is our busiest time of year. I've had a lot of hours lately. I'm going to try and dedicate more time to the next few chapters since I think there's only going to be two more.

As usual, I didn't get anyone to beta it, so please point out any glaring mistakes so I can fix them and update it.

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Hellboy woke to find a pair of soft, brown eyes staring at him. Light was streaming in through the blinds, slanting across the room at such an extreme angle that Hellboy knew it was still very early. His internal clock said it was about six-thirty or seven, but he didn't feel like pulling away from John to find out for sure. The kid was propped up on his elbow, one of his legs thrown leisurely across Hellboy's thighs.

Hellboy groaned, "Do you ever sleep?"

"I slept."

"For what, an hour?"

"I can't answer that. I don't know what time we went to bed."

Chuckling, Hellboy rolled onto his back and pulled the kid on his chest, "Late."

"See, that doesn't help me any." John quipped, accepting Hellboy's morning kiss with a smirk. "Because late could be two AM, in which case, I got plenty of sleep. Or it could be four or five, which means I got a nap."

Hellboy tried not to let his concern surface because he knew John didn't like being coddled, but it was easy for the kid to pick up on it. He let his hand wander over John's back, the slight texture by his shoulders reminding him of the scars. They weren't the same as the marks on his wrists, they definitely weren't self-inflicted. They did, however, look intentional. Hellboy noted that there were no scars where someone might see them, like on his neck or face.

John laughed bitterly, "No, she was smarter than that."

"She? Who did this to you?"

The kid adverted his gaze and laid his head against Hellboy's pectoral, "It's kind of a pathetic story, I don't think you want to hear it."

Hellboy's brow furrowed deeply. He stroked John's hair, asking, "Are you afraid to tell me?"

"No," the kid's voice was choked. His fingers tightened in the hair on Hellboy's chest and he whispered, "Yes."

Hellboy opened his mouth to answer, but the door burst inward. Every muscle in the kid's body tensed as Liz came in shouting.

"The helicopter will be here in ten-" She froze, her expression going blank and her mouth falling open. "Oh!" Liz broke out of her shock and turned away from them. "Uh, sorry. I'll try and knock next time. The helicopter is going to be here soon. You might want to put some clothes on."

She shut the door behind her, leaving them alone. A chuckle rolled in Hellboy's chest when he felt John's face heat against his skin. The kid covered most of Hellboy and Liz had seen him more than once with his clothes torn to shreds after a mission, so she'd gotten more of an eyeful of John than anything else. The sheets were tangled around John's legs, coming only to his knees. Hellboy understood his embarrassment, but it amused him anyway.

Hellboy gave John's ass a light slap, "Go get a shower."

The kid edged out of bed and limped to his room. Hellboy's stomach churned. Something heavy was hanging over them and Hellboy knew it wasn't going away until John trusted him enough to tell him about the rest of his scars. He wondered how they could possibly be worse than suicide. He could tell they were from abuse, but why John was afraid to tell him about them was what bothered him.

Hellboy got in the shower for a quick rinse and threw on his gear before he went looking for Abe. The icthyo sapien was strapping on his gun holster when Hellboy leaned in the open doorframe. There was something black and lacy peeking out from between the unkempt sheets. When Abe noticed him looking at it, he snatched the pair of underwear and shoved them in his pocket.

"She wears lace?"

If Abe could've blushed, he would have, "It's a new development."

"You buy them for her?" Hellboy asked with a smirk.

"No, I had nothing to do with the decision."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure you did."

Abe sighed and picked up his trench coat, "Did you come here for any particular reason?"

Still smirking, Hellboy said, "I need a gun the kid can handle. Something compact. What've you got?"

Abe went to a hard case sitting open on the floor. There were several weapons packed in custom cut foam, a basic array of traditional firearms and other, more arcane weapons that were only good against certain enemies. Abe picked one of the handguns and lifted up a secondary layer of foam to get a spare clip.

He brought both to Hellboy and commented, "It's not like I was the only one getting laid last night. For a few minutes, I thought you were murdering that psychic."

"He probably feels like I tried to kill him," Hellboy grunted as he checked the gun's sights.

"You haven't been with anyone in so long, why him?"

Hellboy tucked the gun and clip into his belt, "Why Liz?"

Abe's gills flared slightly at the question, "Liz and I make a lot more sense than some agent you met less than a week ago. We've known each other for years. And-" Abe pushed a finger against Hellboy's broad chest, "And you are notoriously cautious when it comes to relationships, for good reason, so what could make you throw that out for this boy?"

"I don't know."

Abe glared at him, clearly not satisfied with his answer. Problem was, Hellboy didn't have a better one for him. He and John had a connection he couldn't explain. It went way beyond the fact that John could read him, a lot of agents could do that. It was more that the kid accepted him so easily. Most people took time to get used to him, but, from the moment he and John met, the kid had taken him at face value and not cringed. Whether it was his ability or something else, the kid saw him through the horns and tail and red skin. The kid saw _him_.

At the moment, that wasn't something he wanted to admit to Abe, "He's not like them."

"How could you possibly know that already?"

"I don't, I just feel like he is."

Abe put his hands on his hips, sighing again, "Your instincts are usually on the money. I just hope they work as well off the field as they do in it."

"Yeah, me too."

Hellboy returned to his room, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. The door that connected John's room to the exterior hall was ajar and he could hear Liz's angry, but level voice coming from inside.

She was saying, "Do I make myself very clear?" when Hellboy pushed into the room.

Liz had John trapped near the armoire and he was looking particularly livid about it. He must've finished his shower because his hair was wet and he was in a fresh pair of jeans. There was a clean shirt clutched in his hand, giving Hellboy a good idea as to when Liz had burst in on him. Hellboy tried not to let his eyes linger on the bruises on John's hipbones, barely visible above the hemline of his jeans. He'd wanted to be gentle with the boy, but hadn't done as well as he'd thought.

John's gaze flicked to Hellboy and Liz turned to follow it. They were both spitting mad, which Hellboy didn't like. But, considering that John wasn't a pile of ash and Liz wasn't bleeding out of her eyes, Hellboy figured it could've been worse.

"I'll see you at the chopper in five," Liz snapped at Hellboy, giving John one last scathing look before she walked out.

They both watched the door for a moment and then John went into the bathroom. He yanked the shirt over his head, mussing his hair to get some effect Hellboy didn't understand.

"I didn't know you already had a girlfriend," John griped.

"What did she say?"

"That if I wasn't serious about you, that I should leave you alone. I'm really sick of being treated like I'm some kind of untrustworthy swine that's going to run around behind your back." Some of John's anger faded as he went to his suitcase to get a pair of socks. He sat on the end of the bed and somberly asked, "You've had a lot of bad relationships."

The statement did exactly what John probably wanted, making Hellboy think about some of his worst breakups. John's mind brushed his and Hellboy let him see everything. Out of the few people Hellboy had allowed into his life, one had cheated with a fellow agent, one had only slept with him thinking he could get her a better position within the agency, and another had looked at is as his good deed for the year. The best relationship he'd ever had was with the woman who couldn't stand his tail. She was part of the reason why he'd started filing his horns.

Hellboy cleared his throat and pulled the gun out from under his belt, "Have you ever used a gun before?"

John nodded, "I grew up in Arkansas, remember? I knew how to shoot before I knew how to tie my shoes."

"Sure didn't seem like it when you used mine."

John's glare had little power behind it, "That's because you use a freaking hand cannon. It's got to be over a fifty caliber."

"Seventy nine." Hellboy flipped the pistol around so John could take the handle, but didn't let go when he grabbed it. "You really should stay behind on this one."

"You know the answer to that."

"Yeah, but I've got to say it anyway."

John took the gun when Hellboy finally let go of it, "What about the holster?"

"There should be one on the helicopter you can use."

Sticking the weapon in the waistband of his pants, John pocketed the clip and reached for his shoes. Hellboy watched him silently, his mind tumbling over the scars. After John had tied his laces, he leaned his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his face with both hands.

"My mother smoked," John mumbled.

"And she what, used you as an ashtray?" Hellboy growled, coming over to sit next to the kid.

"No, she just… I don't know," John left his face in his palms, keeping his gaze trained at the floor. His voice was barely above a whisper when he said, "I lied to you."

Hellboy lifted his chin, feeling a rush of anger course through him. He'd already told the kid he hated being lied to, but John was trying to set things straight and Hellboy would let him, "About what?"

"About my mother, about what happened."

When John dared to meet Hellboy's gaze, he seemed terrified. Hellboy realized that this truth was what held the deadfall over their barely hatched relationship. Whatever it was, the kid seemed to think it was going to end everything. Hellboy wasn't sure that they had time for any dramatic reveals. He could hear the chopper in the distance and they only had until nightfall to stop the resurrection of the Shade Court.

"Kid, it can't be as bad as you're making it," Hellboy said. When John started to say something else, Hellboy cut him off, "You can tell me all about it if we survive this."

John's eyebrows arched slightly, "If?"

"Yeah, kid. If. You sure you don't want to stay here?"

After a moment of silence, John got to his feet, "I'm going with you."

"That's what I figured." Hellboy held out the iron pendent he'd already given to John once. "Try to keep it on this time."

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John felt like he was the only one that was nervous. The other agents were worried, but they weren't scared. Once he'd been on enough missions, John figured that his nerves would harden up too. When the pilot shouted that he had a visual on the loch, John wondered why he didn't stay at the hotel. He could've been having room service and watching TV or getting caught up on his email. Though, in reality, he would've been losing his mind with worry if he'd been left behind.

John took a deep breath and glanced over at Hellboy. The noise from the rotor made it impossible to have a conversation, so he took the demon's hand and squeezed it. They had headsets, but everyone in the helicopter would hear them and he didn't need the others to know that he was scared shitless. Hellboy returned the gentle pressure, rubbing his thumb over John's knuckles. Across from them, Liz watched the exchange and wondered if John would be good for Hellboy after all. John smiled at the thought.

The thin voice of the pilot came through the headphones John was wearing, "You guys seeing this?"

Hellboy got up and stepped through the narrow opening into the cockpit. Through his eyes, John could see the black, writhing shape in the sky ahead of them. It almost looked like a flock of birds, but Hellboy didn't seem to think so.

"What is it?" Liz asked.

Hellboy came back and shouldered open the helicopter's side door. Cold air rushed around them as the demon leaned out of the aircraft to get a better look at the flying mass. Feeling Hellboy's slight anxiety, John drew his gun.

"Get the other door open," Hellboy shouted.

Abe did, the swirl of air in the cabin became a strong crosswind as the other door slammed open. Even with the soundproofing in the headset, the roar of the chopper's blades made it nearly impossible to hear anything else. Liz jumped up and joined Abe, her voice a low hum in the speakers. John could tell that she was asking what was coming.

When Hellboy answered her, he cupped his hand around the speaker at his mouth so they could all understand him, "Witches."

John grabbed the loop of leather near the roof to haul himself into the cockpit. The cloud ahead of them had broken apart into hundreds of shapes. They were flying on all kinds of enchanted objects, brooms and horse skeletons and goats with fish tails. Their tattered black cloaks whipped behind them like shadows.

One of the women in the lead released her hold on the moldering animal she was riding and lifted her arms high above her head. A glowing circle of symbols appeared at her fingertips, growing so it looked like her mount was getting ready to leap through the pentagram at the center. Green light gathered at the heart of the emblem.

"We've got spell activity," the pilot reported calmly, despite the sweat gathering at his brow.

John could hear Abe and Hellboy arguing over the headphones. Neither of them acknowledged the pilot's concern. Abe was angry, ripping into Hellboy about something he'd done at Dagdea's house and that the witches shouldn't have known they were there yet. There wasn't much of an argument coming from Hellboy. His silence was condemning enough, even without the demon mentally repeating his actions in the witch's house to see what he'd done wrong.

John returned to the cabin, getting between the two agents, "It doesn't matter how it happened, it just did. We've got to figure out how to get past them."

Something hit the helicopter and the machine lurched and groaned, nearly pitching everyone off their feet. Hellboy grabbed John's arm to steady him. In the cockpit, an alarm wailed as green energy rolled past the open doors. When it was gone, the seasoned agents jumped into action, leaning out the windows to open fire at the hoard of witches. The closest ones dropped out of the sky, their enchanted mounts falling after them as they lost their power.

"How far are we from the loch?" Hellboy shouted into his microphone.

"A few miles."

"Take us underneath them."

The pilot followed Hellboy's order and the helicopter dipped sharply. Like a squadron of fighter jets, the witches all changed direction at the same time to dive after them. They swept around the side of the helicopter, giving the flashing rotor a wide berth. John could see them more clearly as they came down on them. Most of them had faces like grandmothers or great-grandmothers, too old to be fighting an aerial battle over Wales. The matronly appearance ended at their age. They bared mouthfuls of sharp teeth and waved weapons adorned with human skulls.

"Liz," Hellboy drew out the pyro's name as he dropped the empty shells out of his gun and started slamming new ones into the chamber.

Elizabeth's eyes had taken on the glow John had seen when he'd first met her. She lifted her hands so they were palm up at her sides and said, "I'm already on it."

At first, John didn't notice anything happening, but then several of the closest witches caught fire. It started on their cloaks, racing hungrily over their bony frames. One let out a shattering scream as she dropped out of sight. Others echoed her cry and replaced her. As fast as Liz could burn them, their numbers still swelled. They were so thick in the sky around the helicopter that the light from the sun faded.

There was too much wrath, too many thoughts for John to read anything specific. He didn't like not knowing what was coming. Staying in a crouch by Hellboy's feet so the blasts of energy rocking the helicopter didn't throw him out the open door, John squeezed off round after round into the dense hoard. _Aim for the eye and you won't miss the head_ was something his father used to tell him before he died. Though he'd been out of practice for more than a year, almost all of John's bullets found their mark.

John was so focused on his aim that he jumped when something touched the small of his back. He craned his neck to see Hellboy's tail hooking around his belt. The panicked flutter in John's chest settled and he managed a half smile as he fired another round.

Another siren wailed from the cockpit. It chirped at a different pitch than the first, seeming to argue with the deeper alarm. John would've wondered what it meant, but he could hear the screeching noise the rotor had started making. The bulky machine was listing slightly to the right. Water spread out in front of them, their destination a tiny smudge of dirt and grass and trees that could hardly be considered a sandbar. John hoped the pilot could get the helicopter back on course in time to land on it.

Something thumped against the metal wall and John felt the witch's blood curdling hatred before he heard her war cry. He whipped around. The woman filled the open doorway on Abe's side, her thin hair thrashing around features so drawn that she looked more like corpse than living flesh. She hoisted a blade over her head, her sunken eyes set on Elizabeth's back. Abe was a lightning strike. He dropped to the floor and kicked the witch's feet out from under her, coming up in a lunge to push her out the door as she fell.

John yelped when he was forcefully jerked backwards against Hellboy's legs. A spear hissed through the air where his head was a half a second earlier. It clattered across the metal flooring, sliding out the opposite door near Abe. John looked up at Hellboy and thanked the demon with his eyes.

John tried to get up, but a massive bang made the helicopter shudder and pitch towards the ground. A dented cauldron and a hailstorm of rotor fragments flew past the windows. Smoke filled the small aircraft, swept away almost as quickly as it could form. In the cockpit, the pilot was screaming something incoherent, his voice lost in the dozens of sirens and alarms. The loch rushed towards them and the witches stopped their chase. John could feel his heart in his throat, along with his stomach and possibly every other organ he possessed. He gripped the edge of one of the seats, squeezing his eyes shut so he couldn't see the swell of water waiting to take them with open arms.

A hand clamped down on the back of his jacket and hauled him upright. Hellboy's lips brushed his ear as the demon shouted, "Can you swim?"

John gave him a bewildered look, but nodded.

"Good," Hellboy said, and threw him out the open door.

The wind swallowed John's scream, tearing it away from his mouth and ears so all he could hear was his own heartbeat. He felt like he was falling forever, his sense of space affected by the fact that all he could see was the sky. Even the helicopter disappeared from his line of sight, leaving a blood red sunset and clouds that looked like clots in a vast pool. Somehow, he knew it was a bad omen.

When he hit the water, it was like hitting concrete. Pain ravaged him. The air was forced out of his lungs as if he'd been hit by a sledgehammer in the chest and then the water rushed up around him. After the pain faded, all that was left was the cold. The water was freezing. It made his muscles seize and reached down his throat as he struggled for breath.

In the distance, he heard the helicopter crash into the water. It helped orient him. John kicked as hard as he could, his legs burning with the effort, and broke the surface. He coughed heavily even as he searched for the others. There was a thick curl of smoke coming up from the water. A few scraps of the helicopter floated on the surface with a burning slick of fuel.

The witches circled the sky above them. Their cackling was barely audible over the slap of water and the sharp hiss of the fire. Beyond the wreckage, John saw what he thought was the island. Even if it wasn't, it was the closest strip of land and John knew he couldn't keep treading water. The temperature was making his limbs numb. He swam around the downed helicopter, putting plenty of space between him and the floating fuel.

Movement on the edge of the island caught John's attention. Two figures were dragging out of the water, one nearly carrying the other. They were both small and lithe, so John assumed it was Liz and Abe. The pilot was a bit portly and it was hard to mistake Hellboy's bulk.

A large, blue-green shape swam directly in front of John. It barely broke the surface of the water, revealing dark, short fur and flash of fin. John reversed direction, his eyes darting around as the animal disappeared beneath the water. The creature bumped against his legs and John fell into the fastest freestyle crawl he could manage. He wasn't a spectacular swimmer, especially not with his clothes and gear weighing him down, but he knew he had to try. He was too far from the shore to call for help, and even if they did hear him, there wouldn't be much they could do for him.

It ran into him again and surged to the surface, breathing out a plume of white steam as it regarded him. The kelpie's eyes burned. John didn't stop to find out what emotion made the animal's eyes so bright. He didn't want to know whether it was hunger, or revenge that was driving it. The shore was still so far away. John gasped for air, his arms and legs slowing as the cold edged into them. He half wished the kelpie would stop playing with him. When the animal grabbed his leg with its teeth, he realized how very stupid that wish was. John couldn't get a sound out before it dragged him under.

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It took Hellboy longer than the others to break away from the helicopter. Abe and Liz had gotten out before they'd hit the water. Hellboy knew Liz couldn't swim, but there was no way that Abe would let her drown. He hoped the kid hadn't landed too far from the shore because the icthyo sapien would be hard pressed to get Liz out and get back to John before he drowned.

The helicopter had settled to the bottom by the time Hellboy managed to get into the cockpit to check the state of the pilot. The man was already dead when he got to him, speared through his side by a twisted piece of metal. The water thick with his blood. Hellboy regrettably left him. When the mission was over, the BPRD would send a retrieval crew for him so he could be sent home for burial.

Hellboy shoved off the bottom of the lake to speed his way to the surface. His chest ached and his head was getting cloudy, but he stayed calm. He was a good swimmer, so it only took a few seconds to get his head above water. Inhaling deeply, Hellboy scanned the surface of the water for any other bobbing heads. The first thing he saw was Abe fighting to keep Liz afloat. It was a losing battle, but the pair was close to the shore.

Hellboy swam after them. When he got to an area where he could stand, he got his feet underneath him and walked awkwardly towards Abe. The icthyo sapien got Liz settled on the muddy bank and turned back to the water. Before he dove in, he spotted Hellboy and stopped.

"I was just coming to look for you," Abe told him.

"No need," Hellboy grunted, searching the shore for John. "You seen the kid?"

"No, but you tossed him out before we crashed, so he should be on the other side of the helicopter."

Liz sat up, still coughing and gasping. "He's going to have to fend for himself, because the sun is going down quick and we've got to get to that ceremony."

Abe concurred, "She makes an excellent point."

"We've got to find him. What if he's hurt?"

Liz used Abe's offered hand to get to her feet, pushing some of her long hair out of her face. "They can start the resurrection the moment the sun goes down. We've got ten minutes to get out there and we don't have any clue what's going to be standing in our way."

"One of you could stay behind and-"

"Red! He's got to learn to stand on his own if he's going to be part of the bureau. This is why we're not supposed to date other agents! You have to put the mission before everything else."

Hellboy growled at that, annoyed that Liz would look him in the eye and say something like that when her lover was standing next to her, "You've got some balls, Sherman. What about you two, huh? You going to tell me Abe wouldn't come back for you if you were drowning out there?"

A wave of heat hit him as Liz's eyes lit up. The water soaking her clothes and hair flashed into steam. "The mission always comes first. Abe and I know that, which is why we're still allowed to work together."

"Manning knows and he still assigns you together?"

Quietly, Abe added, "It's hard to walk away, but we need your help. Half the Unseelie court could've gathered near those stones by now."

As much as Hellboy hated it, he knew they were right. He looked out over the water, but couldn't see anything beyond the thick black smoke billowing from the burning fuel spill. The kid was probably at the other shore already… if he wasn't dead. Hellboy set his teeth as he thought about the height at which he'd made the kid bail out. It was too far. Hellboy's guts turned over, making him queasy.

"Hellboy," Abe pressed, motioning inland. "We don't have much time."

His tail curling wildly, Hellboy raised his gaze to the sky. The bottom edge of the sun was touching the horizon. He noted with no surprise that it was red. It steeled his decision. No matter what happened, he had to stop the resurrection. He hoped that the kid had powerful survival instincts to back up all of his talk.

Finally, Hellboy said, "Alright, let's go."

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John was thrown from the water with such force that he was airborne for a moment before he slammed into the muddy bank. He rolled over and struggled in the thick mud, trying to get up. The kelpie exploded out of the loch behind him. Its lower half was a long, twisting fin that slapped the shoreline wetly. As the animal pulled itself forward with its front legs, the spiny fin melted like ice cubes in an oven. It split in the center and solidified into haunches and legs.

John groped for his side holster, but it was empty. He had the gun in his hand when they'd crashed. There was a high chance it was at the bottom of the loch with the rest of the helicopter. The only other tool John had was the iron pendent, but he wasn't sure it would be enough to stop the gigantic animal. He'd put an iron round into the kelpie with Hellboy's gun and it lived, so he doubted a little necklace would have much effect.

Keeping his burning gaze locked on John, the kelpie slammed a hoof down on either side of him. The animal towered over John, water dripping from its heaving flanks in a rainstorm. John wasn't sure whether it was fear or uncertainty that kept him rooted in place. Perhaps a bit of both. In his subconscious, he knew the animal had the edge in the water, so why would it bring him out onto the land? It could've easily dragged him down and drowned him or eaten him, but it had brought him to the island instead.

"What do you want?" John asked, feeling a bit like a fool for asking but hoping he would get an answer in the animal's mind. He knew the creature was smart enough to understand him.

The knight flashed through his thoughts, making John shudder involuntarily. The second image made more sense than the first. There was a woman with curly hair, the one John had seen in Dagdea and the Bishop's heads. She was standing at the center of the erect stones, the knight kneeling at her feet, swearing fealty. Her expression was almost adoring.

Something deep in the kelpie crunched and his body started changing. His fur melted into pale human skin and his features flattened and softened. When he was completely human, he was still leaning over John, his eyes wild with a hatred that John realized was not aimed at him.

"I want you to kill the knight," the kelpie hissed. "I'm going to tell you how."

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So, for those of you scratching your head over the fact that Hellboy can swim with a boat anchor as a hand, you're not alone. In the comics, Hellboy swims well and fairly regularly. I don't think Mike Mignola thought that one through very well. Oh well. If the story was going to be in the comic-verse, I had to abide by his rules, not my own.

Not much left now! Bear with me during this Christmas chaos!


	11. The Gathering

No doubt there will be errors, I haven't gone over this chapter very thoroughly. As always, point them out so I can fix them and enjoy.

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Hellboy could hear the Fay long before he reached the stone circle. They were baying, and screaming, and howling, and wailing, their voices carrying through the dense trees on the island. As they got closer to the gathering, Hellboy could discern chanted words in the din. Dozens of the creatures were chanting in a tongue that had been lost long before men learned to fold steel and own the land the Fay had always called home. Hellboy couldn't name the hard-edged language. He'd probably read it in books, but never heard it screamed aloud. He could feel the power in each syllable, could feel the words in his chest as much as he could hear them.

Beside him, Abe murmured, "Is that Lavictus?"

"Who knows?" Hellboy answered near a whisper and crouched behind a rotting log as they found the edge of a clearing. "It is supposed to be the mother language of the Fay."

Abe made a noise that was not an acknowledgement so much as it was a sound of fearful surprise. He went to one knee in the leaves to Hellboy's left, Liz ducking against the log beside him. Together, they all stared at the resurrection site.

The Unseelie numbers were far beyond what Hellboy was expecting. They were packed around the summoning circle in clumps that were two dozen bodies deep. The ground beneath their feet had been trampled into a dark mud that had the overpowering odor of blood. Hellboy flared his nostrils to take in the scent. It was old and new at the same time, smelling of rot and freshly spilled at once. Hellboy suspected many Unseelie had died while they waited for their king to rise.

Even as they surveyed the masses, a fight broke out between a massive, hairy beast with horns that curved back over his cow-like ears and a slender creature with reflective gossamer wings and needle teeth that flashed in the dying sun. They danced around each other, the rest of the hoard moving back quickly to make room for them. The flying creature darted around the bigger beast, lashing out with claws that were long and thin, but the moment the hairy monster grabbed one of its legs, the fight was over. He pulled the flier down and ripped one of its wings out. The high-pitched screech it released was almost more anger than it was pain.

Sitting on a rise in the middle of the masses were the standing stones. It was one of the biggest circles Hellboy had ever seen. The stones reached out of the hoard like the blackened fingers of a dead man. Like most other surviving stone circles, all of the edges had been worn away by eons of rain, making them narrow at the tip. Out of the nine stones, six of them had a spanner stone spreading over their tops. It looked intact, which was rare for one of these ancient sites.

Chloe and her knight stood beside some kind of alter at the center of the circle, their faces turned to the setting sun. Even the knight's green skin was tinted red by the fading light, making it look like he'd just come from a slaughter. Spread out on the altar were dark shapes Hellboy couldn't quite discern at the distance they were huddling, but he could guess that they were the king's bones.

"So, is there a plan?" Liz asked softly.

Hellboy's quip was dry, "Stop the bad people and save the world." She punched his arm for it and he smirked. "We're going to need the Unseelie to get out of the way before we can get to the real threat. Can you two-"

"Be bait," Liz finished for him. She and Abe traded looks that Hellboy couldn't interpret and Liz nodded. "We'll keep them off your back."

The icthyo sapien touched Hellboy's shoulder and asked, "Are you sure you don't need any help with the other two?"

The knight got the best of him the last time they'd fought, but Hellboy was determined not to be caught unprepared the second time. He had more than one trick to handle the Fay, he only hoped that one of them worked. "Yeah, I can get-"

A terrible cry rose from the Unseelie hoards, drawing the attention of the agents back to the clearing. The Unseelie cried out in one voice, lifting their hands and hooves and webbing into the air as the light from the sun disappeared. In the darkness, the stone circle flared to life. White-blue symbols raced up the sides of the stone sentinels and across the ground within the circle, creating lines that connected each stone to its neighbor. The glow from the magic flared and strengthened, casing long, reaching shadows into clearing and forest. Lit from below, Chloe threw back her head and lifted her arms to the sky, releasing a feral scream that chilled Hellboy.

"Go," Hellboy said, not tearing his eyes away from the Unseelie princess.

He felt Abe and Liz slip away from him and then he was alone. His mind strayed to John as he watched the king's skeleton take on the glow of the symbols. He hoped the kid was alright.

Waiting for Abe and Liz to get in position was torturous. Hellboy's muscles ached from how tense they were. His fingers curled tightly around the handle of his gun, the wet leather of his glove creaking with the movement. Behind him, leaves rustled and a streak of hope bolted through him. He turned, looking for John, but seeing only dark trees. Hellboy cursed himself when he realized it was his tail lashing through the undergrowth. Feeling foolish and a bit disheartened, Hellboy pulled his gun and focused on his job.

"Come on, guys. Get in position," Hellboy growled under his breath.

The witches streaked into the clearing in droves, taking up what little empty space there was between the stones and the tree line. As soon as they'd landed, they lifted their hands up to match Chloe's stance. Their bodies swayed as one, their voices joining the swelling chant.

With the knight's assistance, Chloe climbed on top of the altar and stood over the skeleton. In one easy move, she stripped her dress off and drew a knife out of a sheath on her thigh. Her bare skin looked luminescent in the glow of the bones.

Hellboy shifted forward onto his hooves, letting his heels come off the ground. He couldn't wait any more. There was no telling how short or long the ceremony would be and he couldn't risk the resurrection being completed while he waited for Liz and Abe to make their grand appearance. As he rose to his feet, one of the witch's mounts turned its head. The horse corpse regarded him with empty eye sockets, its jaw clacking uselessly. The witch it belonged to didn't seem to notice.

Hellboy had his stone hand propped up on the log in preparation to vault over it when a plume of fire ripped through the far side of the clearing. Gunshots mixed with Fay screeches. Half of the witches and a few of the Unseelie bolted into the air like startled birds. For a moment, chaos ruled the clearing, then Chloe extended a hand in the direction the fire had come from and the Fay charged.

Giving them a few seconds to clear a path, Hellboy leapt over the fallen tree and crept towards the ritual circle. Despite his size, Hellboy didn't have any trouble creeping through shadows. The only thing that gave him away in the dark was the glow of his eyes. He moved forward without a noise, keeping his gun held at the ready in case someone did notice him. When he reached the ring of mud around the circle, he nearly lost his element of surprise.

The mud created by Unseelie blood sucked at his feet and gave a soft popping sound every time he pulled one of his hooves free. Chloe's knight turned his head, aiming his ear towards Hellboy. He darted to the side so one of the standing stones was between him and the knight and picked up his pace. The diversion was loud, but the knight's senses were very keen. If he was anything like Hellboy, he could pick up the sound that didn't fit as easily as he could pick a breakfast cereal.

Hellboy dug his toes into the hill and lunged up it in gigantic strides. He put his back against the standing stone just as the knight walked out of the circle to scan the area. The knight's face was heavily shadowed, but Hellboy knew he was just out of his line of sight. Edging around the stone slowly, Hellboy aimed his gun at Chloe's exposed back.

She knelt over the king's bones and smeared a thick line of blood over the brow of the skull. The knife in her opposite hand was dark with it, but there wasn't anything Hellboy could see that she could've gotten the blood from. When she drew her hand away from the skull, he caught a glimpse of the long wound on her palm. Magic was a lot like science, before something could be created something else had to be consumed. In the older beliefs, life could only be bought with life, which led to sacrifice.

As Chloe's blood crawled across the glowing bones and broke apart into strands of muscle, Hellboy thought it probably wasn't the case here. Settling his aim just between her shoulder blades, Hellboy squeezed the trigger. Something slammed into him from behind and the shot went wide and ricocheted off one of the stones. Blue-tinted energy crackled from the break in the surface. Chloe turned to cast a smoldering glance over her shoulder at him, but didn't move from her place above the king's body.

Hellboy ducked under the knight's second attack and rotated to put two rounds into the knight's torso. Like before, the rounds ripped through him, leaving gaping holes that didn't bleed. The knight didn't even seem to notice, his face a mask of arrogance. He grabbed Hellboy's jacket by the lapels on either side of his neck and threw him across the stone circle. Hellboy landed hard on his shoulder, rolling to his feet.

Between them, Chloe crouched over the king's body with her knife held at the ready. Bloody cords of muscle whipped around the hollow ribcage and the skeleton's mouth fell open as the new muscle made the body twitch and arch off the stone altar. Specs of red spattered across Chloe's pale thighs and abdomen.

Hellboy lowered his gun slightly, "What, no lengthy monologue about how my fight is futile? Your kind usually has something to say when I get this close to fucking up your plans."

Chloe regarded him coolly with green eyes that were alight with the blue light of the circle's power. Her knight came around her slowly, drawing his sword from its sheath. The scrape of metal was barely audible over the sound of the screaming Fay hoards. Liz's fire flared again and again, streaking Hellboy's battleground in orange and red, but the retort of Abe's gun had disappeared. Hellboy couldn't let it worry him.

"Kill him," Chloe snarled.

Her knight leapt forward to obey her command. The blade was a reflective streak as he slashed at Hellboy. Hellboy threw his stone arm in the path of the sword and pumped two more bullets into the knight's chest. Armor crunched and fell away, growing back the moment it was gone.

The sound of the gun brought other Fay scurrying back to the circle, but none of them seemed willing to cross the glowing lines etched in the ground. They paced at the edge, clacking their teeth and ripping up chunks of grass right next to the streaks of blue.

A slim, dark skinned creature with a long face and longer hands reached too far, the tip of one finger touching the powerful symbol. The blue-white fire leapt onto the creature's skin as though it were magnetically attracted to him. A howling screech went up from the affected Fay as well as all of those near him. The others scrambled away, crawling over each other to avoid contact with the burning creature. Within a second, the creature was burning too brightly to look at directly. He fell forward, reduced to ash before he hit the ground.

Hellboy could feel the heat under his feet every time he stepped on one of the glowing lines, but wasn't sure why it wasn't incinerating him in the same manner. There was too much going on to dedicate any real thought to it. The knight caught his bicep with the edge of his sword and agony roared from his shoulder, to his hand, and back again. The grip on his gun weakened, but he managed to hang onto it.

When Hellboy glanced back at the altar, he was disturbed to see that the muscle had reached the king's extremities. His raw, exposed limbs flexed and moved as if he was stretching after a nap. A pair of eyes formed and they joined Chloe's in watching Hellboy intently. They were the same shade as Chloe's vivid green.

Hellboy knew he didn't have long. Jumping back to avoid a thrust that was aimed as his belly, Hellboy stopped retreating and pushed forward. He swung his stone hand like a pendulum, forcing the knight to dodge away. The moment there was enough room, Hellboy whipped his gun into position and put a bullet between the king's freshly formed eyes. The muscles shuddered and froze. Chloe's scream was sharper than the knight's blade. Before he could get any satisfaction from it, the hole in the skull healed over.

Hellboy's smile vanished, "Son of a-"

The sword sunk into Hellboy's side, shredding his exclamation with a ragged cry of pain. His lip curled and he grabbed the hilt of the knight's sword. Dragging the knight closer by the collar of his breastplate, Hellboy growled, "Now you're just pissing me off."

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John sprinted through the trees towards the gunfire. The kelpie galloped ahead of him, his slick flesh glistening even in the dark shadows of the forest. Within seconds, the animal had disappeared from sight. The kelpie had one goal and John had another. He knew what had to be done, he just hoped he could get there in time to see it happen. Twice, he tripped over raised roots, but he scrambled to his feet and kept running. His breath was coming out in ragged pants before he reached the clearing and he silently vowed to start working out a couple times a week.

The scene that greeted him reminded him how cold he was. Already bleeding from a half dozen wounds, Hellboy was struggling to fend off the Fay knight's sword. The demon was furious. Even from across the clearing, John could feel his rage. There was something else too, some other entity that fueled the rage. Whatever it was, it frightened John more than the scattered Fay creatures standing between him and the stone circle.

He hesitated at the tree line, his heart thrumming in his ears. Without a gun and only his iron pendant as protection, John felt naked. The Fay had their attention firmly fixed on what was going on within the magic circle, but it would only take one to let out an alarm cry and they would know he was there. He had to tell Hellboy what he'd learned about the knight and he couldn't shout it across the field.

Deciding there wasn't another choice, John took off his pendant and wrapped it around his wrist. He dashed out into the open.

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Even with his vision swimming from pain and rage, Hellboy saw the king sit up. Ink black flesh as dark as the sky crawled across the king's exposed muscle, starting at his chest and working its way down his abdomen. Hellboy didn't have long to stop the ceremony. Chloe brushed the king's face with her wounded hand, blood running down her forearm to the elbow.

Hellboy rolled to the side of the knight's blade and punched him in the stomach with his stone hand. He was expecting the knight to fly off his feet, for his breath to come out in a whoosh of air that would leave him gasping in the dirt. Instead, the knight stumbled back a step and dropped his sword, but came at him again like a rabid dog. The knight's long fingers closed on the shoulders of Hellboy's jacket as he threw Hellboy across the stone circle.

He hit one of the standing stones hard enough that something crunched in his shoulder and the behemoth stone came loose from the earth. Hellboy landed on his hands and knees with a grunt. He could sense the massive stone shifted beside him, could tell it was titling backwards. The lines of energy underneath his palm flickered. Hellboy shook the fog from his head and blinked, narrowing his eyes at the pulsing power cutting through the grass like narrow neon tubing.

Under the guise of getting to his feet, he braced his hand against the boulder and pushed. The lines flickered again and the king took in a hissing breath through his teeth. Chloe and the knight tensed.

"Father?" Chloe asked in the voice of an uncertain child.

Taking advantage of their diverted attention, Hellboy threw himself against the teetering stone. White-hot bolts of electricity darted from the base. Wherever they licked Hellboy's skin they left dark smears of ash, though they didn't burn. Hellboy put all of his weight into the stone, his hooves leaving gouges in the earth as he slid.

Chloe's voice cracked through the air, "No, no, no!"

The fire of Chloe's spell leapt from the confining lines onto the king's flesh. His lipless mouth fell open, letting out a keening cry that a dying animal would make. The smell of cooking meat rose into the air with Chloe's frantic screams. She pounded the flames desperately, the skin on her arms turning red before it began to bubble. Hellboy gave the stone one final shove and it crashed to the ground, all of the symbols and designs vanishing like candles in the wind.

Hoof beats rang through the circle. In his natural form of several thousand pounds of horseflesh, the kelpie thundered into the ring of stones, knocking another loose with his shoulder as he ran by. When the stone hit the ground, Hellboy felt the vibrations in his feet. The animal pushed Chloe away from the burning corpse of her father with his head and shifted quickly into a human so he could lift her in his arms. He didn't turn when he fled with her.

Unperturbed, the knight faced Hellboy, whispering, "Kill all those who stand against us."

Behind the knight, the king of the Shade Court continued to burn. Reminiscent of the warrior who'd died to keep him out of Fay hands, the king was reduced to smoldering bones that seemed to glow with their own light. When the fire ran out of fuel to consume, it puttered out, leaving a charcoaled skeleton and a partially melted crown. The elaborate crown continued to glow with the heat of the fire. Darkness consumed the area after the magic was gone, concealing the Fay that were moving slowly into the destroyed circle.

"The horse took your woman," Hellboy grumbled at the knight with a loose gesture in the direction the kelpie had gone. "Why don't you go chase his ass for a while?"

The knight knelt to pick up his blade and repeated, "Kill all those who stand against us."

Hellboy's eyes flicked around to count how many creatures were left. Even with as good as his night vision was, some of the darker Fay were hard to separate from the shadows. He estimated he was up against at least a dozen, probably more. The knight was a challenge on his own and Hellboy didn't need the extra trouble crowding him.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered.

There were only two bullets in his gun and he'd used up his extra rounds while he was fighting the witches. Hellboy's tail curled with his unease. Off to his left, a Fay screamed and something much more human grunted. The scream set the others off. They fell on Hellboy with teeth and claws and crude weapons. He fired his last two shots, sending a creature with heavy jowls and one with two sets of glowing green eyes stumbling off into the night with fatal wounds.

"Hellboy," the human voice called.

Hellboy recognized John's voice instantly. It simultaneously filled him with joy and dread. He was thrilled the kid was still alive, but knew he wouldn't be for long if he got in the middle of the fight.

The knight shoved the other Fay aside, bringing his sword down in swift arc aimed at Hellboy's head. Hellboy caught the blade with his flesh hand because his stone one was too slow to intercept. He roared as the weapon bit into his palm. Blood poured down his wrist to his elbow, hot and sticky. Hellboy wrapped his stone fingers around the base of the sword and squeezed as hard as he could. The metal groaned and crunched as it gave way. The knight tried to rip it away from him, but fell back with only the hilt and a few inches of twisted blade. Hellboy threw the rest to the ground.

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John slid in the mud on the hill, losing more ground than he was gaining. Without the moon or the energy from the stone circle, the spec of land in the eye of the loch was almost black. John couldn't see the hand he thrust in front of him to find a handhold so he could drag himself up the hill. The only thing guiding him was the sound of the battle.

Any time something brushed against him or grabbed him, John hit it with the iron pendant he had wrapped around his fist. Wherever it made contact, it hissed. The invisible shapes always shrank away with screeches or growls.

Ahead of him, there was a sickening crunch that had Hellboy's shout on its heels. The demon's pain flared in John's mind. He knew how badly Hellboy was hurt, even though his anger burned over the agony. The knight was the one attacking him. John didn't want to open himself to the Fay again, having learned his lesson the first few times, but he needed to get the knight away from Hellboy long enough to get the demon's attention.

Something ran into John, shoving him down into the mud. He rolled and reached out with the pendant and started sliding down the side of the hill. John grabbed at the ground, digging his fingers in to catch on small roots that tore loose. The creature that knocked him over jumped on him and pressed him into the hillside. John could hear the thing panting and slathering over him. Powerful hunger reined the creature's mind.

John released his grip on the earth and aimed a punch where he hoped the thing's face was. His fist made contact with something very sharp. Stars of pain exploded across his vision but the dark shape leapt off of him as the iron did its work. John wanted to curl up around his hand until the sting faded. Instead, he got his feet underneath him and scrambled up the rest of the hill.

John opened his mind to the creatures that surrounded Hellboy. Some noticed, others didn't. The one that took the most interest in him was the knight. Like before, the knight's presence flooded into his thoughts and John swore he could hear his dry, cackling laughter. He smiled in the dark and _pushed_ their minds the way he pushed the bishop's mind.

Fay dropped to the ground all around them. The only one of any significance was the knight. John felt his mind waver, but he didn't fall. Hellboy seized the moment exactly the way John hoped he would. The demon roared and slammed his stone fist into the knight hard enough to cave in the Fay's chest. Through Hellboy's eyes, John could see the knight stumble back and go to one knee. The massive dent in his torso began to reshape instantly.

"John, get out of here," Hellboy growled at him.

"No," John reached out blindly and found Hellboy's jacket. His fingers screamed with pain as he gripped the worn leather. "He's just going to get up. You've got to take out the rock in his chest. It's the center of his power."

When Hellboy turned his head, John caught sight of his glowing yellow eyes. They turned to him, scrutinizing him as Hellboy asked, "How do you know that?"

"A little horse told me."

"Can we trust him?" Hellboy looked back to the knight and John saw that he was almost recovered.

"They were selfish reasons, but he wants the knight dead as badly as we do.

"Alright, get out of here, kid."

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The kid didn't leave, but Hellboy didn't really expect him to. He moved outside the stone circle and that was enough for Hellboy at the moment. John was in his head, not really searching, but observing. Considering how the kid stared without focusing, Hellboy figured it was too dark for him to see, so he let him borrow his eyes.

When they'd noted in John's file that his limits were uncertain, they had no idea how much the kid could actually do. If Manning couldn't get past John's real history, then he was a fool. Not that Hellboy knew exactly what had happened to Thaddeus before he became John. He hoped he'd know some day. The kid would have to trust him enough to tell him and he wasn't sure how long it would be before that happened.

The knight got up, one long hand still clutched to his chest. There was no trace of pain on the Fay creature's face, but he didn't have the mocking haughtiness he had when he started the fight. His white stare was guarded, cautious. He had to have heard what John told Hellboy.

When Hellboy dashed forward, the knight was ready. He slipped sideways and used Hellboy's momentum to slam him into the stone altar. The carefully balanced stones shattered into a dozen pieces, scattering across the grass in the circle. Hellboy grunted and shook his head.

He felt the knight clutch his shoulder and then he was gone again, reeling backwards and grabbing his head. John walked into the ring slowly, his blind eyes trained on the knight. The kid had clearly learned a thing or two from the knight's attacks on him. Though the battle was invisible, it was easy for Hellboy to follow. The knight gained ground and lowered his hands and John grit his teeth, bearing them in a grimace. A trail of blood ran down the kid's cheek from his eye, a stark contrast against his pale flesh. John shouted and the knight fell against one of the standing stones, giving Hellboy a chance to jump back in.

Keeping the knight pinned against the boulder, Hellboy punched the Fay's ribcage with his stone hand. He pulled back and hit him again and again, feeling the armor and bones give way underneath his attack. The knight's long fingers whipped around his neck and squeezed. Hellboy struggled to draw breath through his constricted windpipe, but it didn't stop him. He slammed his fist against the creature's side until it was a concave mess with quills of broken rib peeking through the green skin.

As Hellboy was tearing away the remnants of armor, John screamed. The knight's grip on his throat loosened, letting Hellboy pull away and turn to John. A creature with a long face and rows of jagged teeth had the kid on his stomach in the grass, one clawed hand pinning John's arm to the ground.

Just above the Fay's top row of teeth was a burn shaped like the pendant Hellboy had given John. The creature had already been touched by iron once and came back. Hellboy knew it would be twice as careful to avoid the pendant now. Hellboy saw the necklace clutched in John's hand, the one the creature had pressed into the grass. Hellboy hung between two choices, still gripping the front of the knight's armor to hold him still with his attention focused on his lover struggling to free himself. He didn't consciously make the decision, his feet were already moving.

Hellboy kicked the Unseelie monstrosity in the side of the head, stepping over John to follow it. The creature snarled and opened its mouth to show Hellboy exactly how many rows of teeth it had. He wasn't impressed. Unable to control himself, Hellboy roared at the Fay. It shrunk away, closing its mouth. Before Hellboy could attack it again, it ran from the circle with its long, whip-like tail curled between its legs.

John's shout broke into Hellboy's feral rage, "Look out!"

The rock crashed into Hellboy's head, knocking him to his knees. His vision swam. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the knight approaching with another piece of the altar in his hands. The green Fay lifted the rock high above his head. John scrambled to get out of the way as the knight brought the rock down on him. Hellboy surged forward and tackled the knight, feeling the altar fragment strike his back. All the damage he'd done to the knight's side had already healed. Hellboy attacked the armor anew, but it seemed thicker than before.

A brilliant red glow exploded through the stone circle, with Liz at its heart. Her hair danced wildly as she approached Hellboy and the knight. She lifted one hand and the knight went up like the kindling he was. He became an inferno in an instant. Hellboy stepped back only so his coat wouldn't combust too. He'd had that happen more than once.

Abe ran between the stones and grabbed John, dragging the kid away from Liz's blaze. They both threw up their arms to shield their faces from the immense heat as they retreated. The knight stumbled towards Liz, still alive and regenerating though her fire devoured him as quickly as he could recover. Liz lifted her head, her eyes flaring brighter. The inferno flared in response and stripped the knight to his core.

In the middle of his chest was the beating stone. It was the only thing that couldn't burn. Hellboy reached in and grabbed the stone, wrenching it free of the burning tendrils of root that held it in place. The moment it was gone, the rest of the knight vanished in a puff of smoke and ash.

Hellboy turned to Liz cautiously. Sometimes she controlled the fire and sometimes the fire controlled her. He waited to see which way it would go. The inferno slowly shrank and abated until all that was left was a small flame she kept burning over her palm so they could see. She smiled at Hellboy, sure and confident.

"Looks like you finally figured it out," he said softly.

"Yeah, but I had some help."

John came running, practically bowling Hellboy over with a fierce kiss that made him groan. He wrapped his arms around the kid's waist and let his lips linger on John's mouth. Even without being psychic, he could feel the kid's relief in his touch and the way he clutched at the back of Hellboy's head.

When John disengaged, he mentioned, "Chloe got away."

"That happens sometimes. Certain creatures are repeat offenders, so I don't doubt we'll see her again," Abe explained as he joined them.

Abe stood next to Liz, his fingers winding quietly in hers. Hellboy noticed the way her face softened at his touch and the slight smile that played at the corners of her mouth. She was happy for the first time since she'd started at the bureau. Hellboy's heart warmed for them.

"What now?" John asked.

Hellboy gave him a light squeeze and said, "Now we go home."

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It's not over, one more chapter to go!


	12. The Truth

Last one! As always, I'm impatient, so it's not betad. Mistakes are mine and can be fixed if you point them out. Enjoy!

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"You'll get your own room, but I wouldn't expect to spend many nights there," Hellboy joked, his grin getting wider when John actually blushed.

"I'll keep that in mind."

They were sauntering down one of the BPRD hallways towards Manning's office. After he'd patched up the kid's hurts and his own scratches, Hellboy had called his boss on the plane to check in. Manning told him to report in immediately upon landing. There would probably be some shouting, since Hellboy did drag a new recruit headlong into a dangerous situation. It wouldn't be anything Hellboy hadn't heard before. The kid had done exceptionally well and they'd learned a lot about his abilities as a result of his involvement. Manning wouldn't see it that way for the first ten or twenty minutes, but he'd come around eventually.

"I guess I won't be out in the field for a while," John stated, the real question hanging clearly at the end, _but for how long?_

Hellboy took a turn that lead them past rows of black and white photographs. They were of teams long dead and gone and a few of Hellboy's history with the bureau. John paused to look at one of Hellboy shaking President Reagan's hand.

"You'll have to go into training, but the speed of your certification really depends on you. If you fly through training, you could be ready for duty in as little as two months."

John didn't look away from the photograph as he claimed, "I'll do it in one."

Hellboy snorted, "Yeah, we'll see."

John's glare wasn't serious, "You doubt I can?"

"Knowing how stubborn you are, not really." Hellboy knew it wasn't the mental aptitude tests John would have a problem with, it was the physical training that kicked everyone's ass. The kid would figure that out pretty quickly. "Come on, the boss doesn't like to be kept waiting."

John hurried to catch up. When they entered Manning's office, there was a second man standing in front of the desk. Manning looked up at them with a stern expression he wore more often than not, his bald head shining in the florescent lighting. Hellboy wasn't familiar with the other man. He was round and pleasant with small, square frame glasses perched above his warm smile. He had a full head of dark hair that could've been the reason for Manning's scowl, and a very nice wool suit. Hellboy didn't usually see that kind of quality stalking around the bureau, not even on the bigwigs like Manning.

Beside him, John froze. The kid's hands went to Hellboy's arm. Subconsciously, Hellboy touched the handle of his gun in response.

Manning rose to greet them, introducing his guest, "Hellboy, this is Dr. Charles Flemming. He and I have been discussing John's file."

Hellboy's eyes flicked down to the kid's panicked expression. John was gripping Hellboy's arm so fiercely that his fingers were turning white to match the bandage on his hand. It was enough to leave a bruise on a normal human. Hellboy could smell his fear, so much more extreme than when they faced the Fay courts and all the monsters England could come up with.

The doctor took off his glasses and pulled a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his jacket, polishing the surface meticulously, "Of the patients that have gotten out in the past twenty-six years, you, Thaddeus, have been the most difficult to track down."

Understanding crashed through Hellboy like a freight train that jumped its tracks. Manning had done some research when John's medical file hit his desk and had discovered a lot more than Hellboy had bargained for. He'd hoped to have some time to explain everything to Manning before it came to this.

Hellboy put his arm in front of John, gently pushing the kid back so he was standing behind him. "Wait a minute, Manning. You don't have all the-"

He didn't get a chance to finish. John bolted. Cussing, Hellboy followed him out into the hall. The kid was already past the photos, sprinting faster than Hellboy even thought he was capable of. Behind him, Manning was yelling at Hellboy to come back into the office and the doctor was talking quietly into a handheld radio.

A half a second after the person on the other end responded, two men in white scrubs darted into John's path. One came in low to take out his knees, but the kid jumped over him. The other hit him in the chest with an outstretched arm. John hit the floor on his side. Hellboy ran towards the men as they wrestled John to the ground.

"Let him go!" he roared at them.

John landed a solid hit to one orderly's nose with a sharp crack, sending blood gushing down the man's face. As he tried to crawl away, the other grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet. John thrashed and screamed like a trapped animal. Hellboy was half expecting one of the men to drop dead with blood streaming out of their ears and eyes, but John didn't lash out at them like that.

"Hellboy!" John cried, his desperate gaze falling on Hellboy.

A calm, even voice shouted over the noise, catching Hellboy's attention, "He killed his mother, did he tell you that?"

Hellboy stopped so quickly that he nearly fell over his hooves. He turned to the doctor. Dr. Flemming was walking towards the conflict, Manning right behind him. Hellboy could only blink, the statement bouncing around his head with disbelief and caution and shock.

"What?" Hellboy asked quietly.

John savagely pulled at the hands holding him, nearly pulling the orderly over. The one with the nosebleed took one of his arms and smeared red across John's sleeve.

"I had to, Hellboy. Please, listen to me," John's voice cracked as tears brimmed along his eyes. "I had to."

"Wildly delusional and extremely violent do not go well with an IQ as high as Mr. Richter here posses. He's too dangerous to be outside of a state facility until-"

Hellboy pointed at the doctor, "Shut up," and turned his attention to Manning. "Look, Liz leveled a city block with her power before she was brought to us, you've got to reconsider-"

"He didn't kill her with his abilities, he pushed her down some stairs, Hellboy. Dr. Flemming and I agree that he needs to continue his rehabilitation," Manning said flatly, in a tone that warned against argument.

They both knew that wasn't going to happen.

"But she was abusing him. You can hardly fault him for wanting to protect-"

The doctor cut in, making Hellboy bristle, "Thaddeus is self-destructive, actually, and extremely manipulative. His mother was a fine example within the community, going to PTA meetings and running bake sales and doing charity work. Her psychological profile did not fit the alleged abuse that Thaddeus had CPS called out to the house for on multiple occasions. I fear it was a way for him to act out because-"

John shook his head violently, his eyes still locked on Hellboy, "That's not true, it's not! Don't let them take me back there, please! Hellboy!"

Hellboy's brow furrowed deeply. He felt as if he had a mound of puzzle pieces, but somebody had taken all the edge pieces out of the box. He didn't know how to begin to try and organize everything so it made sense. How many times had the kid lied to him? How many times had he used what Hellboy was thinking to tell him exactly what he wanted to hear? Hellboy drew his thoughts out of the open and back into the recesses of his mind where John couldn't get to them.

John's tears started falling. He whispered, "No, please," even as the doctor gave the order to take him to the van.

Hellboy's stomach churned to the point that he felt like finding the nearest trashcan and retching into it. Instead, he watched the orderlies drag Thaddeus Richter away. The boy's eyes seemed even older than they did when Hellboy had met him, peering at him with as much pain and sorrow as a man four times his age. It didn't feel right to Hellboy.

"You know there's more to this than that doctor can tell you," Hellboy growled at Manning.

The director's mouth thinned until it was little more than a white line, "We've had hundreds of agents come and go over the past few years. Some have died truly violent deaths, and yet you didn't even look up from your work. Why does it matter to you that I've decided to return a violent psychiatric patient to his doctor?"

"Because that's not who John is."

Manning turned, something verging on anger crossing face, "The boy is a compulsive liar and has a laundry list of fake identities. You have no idea who he is."

Hellboy's stomach rolled again. He was excellent at reading people, so how had he gone so wrong with this one? He wondered if he was really that distracted by wanting to be sexually involved with the boy that he'd missed every tell the kid had. He didn't want to believe it.

Pulling a cigarette out of the pack in his jacket, Hellboy took the light Manning offered and started to trudge towards his rooms. He hadn't taken three steps when something occurred to him.

"If he inflicted all those wounds himself, how did he get them in the middle of his back?" Hellboy asked out loud, looking at Manning and challenging him to find a good answer.

Manning was silent for precious seconds before he finally said, "You bring me proof and we'll talk."

Hellboy didn't stick around for Manning to change his mind. He ran through the bureau, dodging around startled agents as he sprinted for the front of the building. One of the people he nearly knocked over was Kate Corrigan. Though she was bruised and had her right arm in a sling, she seemed to be intact.

Hellboy ran backwards so he could talk to her and keep moving, "What happened to you being in the ICU?"

She trailed after him, confusion pressing wrinkles between her eyebrows, "That was only one night. Where are you going?"

"A night in the ICU and you're already cleared for duty?"

He was getting far enough away that she had to shout, "Desk duty. Where are you going?"

Hellboy turned around and kept running, "To save John from having to be Thaddeus the rest of his life."

"What?"

Hellboy knew without looking that Kate was following at his heels. She was curious by nature and would never leave a question unanswered, especially one as puzzling as what Hellboy had left her with. She had too few facts to come up with a reasonable explanation.

By the time Hellboy caught up with John and the orderlies, they were walking down the front steps to a van marked Pine Bluff State Psychiatric Hospital. It was all white with plain green text and metal grating welded across the windows. Parked in front of the van was a slick, black Jaguar that had to belong to the doctor. He went to the passenger side of the car, coming back with a needle and vial. Hellboy didn't need to guess what was in it.

John wasn't fighting them anymore, but was barely picking up his feet as they dragged him toward the van. All of the boldness and audacity was gone, leaving a beaten shell of a boy that Hellboy didn't know, but wanted to. He wanted to know every aspect of John, every face he'd hidden behind, every reality that he'd deemed too dangerous to expose. He wanted to know the kid for who he was. If that meant taking the good with the bad, then Hellboy figured he was prepared to do that. He'd had a taste of something more than he was used to and didn't want to lose it, it was like going back to drugstore cigars after he'd had his first real Cuban.

Dr. Flemming still had the needle buried in the sedative vial when Hellboy approached them. He tried to keep the lid in the corner of his mouth when he talked, but it clattered to the cement with the first word, "I'm sure your director can explain everything more thoroughly, I've left him with all the files-"

Hellboy started to tell him off, but then he heard the click of hooves. For a moment, he thought it was his mind playing tricks after a long mission, until he saw the kelpie come across the parking lot at a gallop with Chloe screaming on his back.

"Get out of here!" he shouted at the doctor, shoving at the orderlies. "Go, go now!"

They scattered like roaches, but Hellboy didn't blame them. If it was just a crazy woman on a horse, they might even have some idea of what to do about her. But when the woman had spiked wings like layers of thorns and skin the color of ash and war paint that looked distinctly like blood, it was out of their league. The front half of her father's skull with its melted crown was fastened to her face as a grisly mask, her burning green eyes showing through his eye orbits as if they belonged there. The kelpie was foaming at the mouth, his body a slick of sweat that made every line of his powerful muscles gleam.

Hellboy drew his gun and spread his stance so he was ready for her. He heard the door slam when Kate hurried inside, but didn't lose his focus. Chloe was on him in moments, the kelpie rearing up with a scream as Hellboy tried to deck him. One hoof grazed Hellboy's shoulder. He ducked under the animal's flailing legs and the kelpie slammed to all fours.

Chloe lifted the knight's sword above her head. She'd somehow found the time to have it reforged before she'd appeared in America, something she had to have done in a Fay court, she wouldn't have had time otherwise.

Pushing her father's skull so it tilted back over her flaming, red hair, Chloe regarded Hellboy with disdain. She was clad in boiled leather armor carved with intricate symbols. A white fur cape hung loosely beneath her wings, leaving her back bare save the blood paint that she had smeared on every available piece of skin.

She curled her lip with a snarl, "You will die first, Demon of England, and then I will make your lands the new Shade Court."

"I'll believe that when I see it. Good luck telling McDonalds to take a hike," Hellboy joked easily and whipped his gun between them.

He squeezed the trigger. The hammer clicked, but nothing happened. Hellboy cursed as he remembered that he'd used up all his ammo on the mission. He'd never gotten the chance to refill it. Chloe's blade dove through his confusion, catching him in the chest and flaying open his jacket and one of his pectorals. When he fell, the kelpie leapt forward to try and crush him beneath its hooves.

Hellboy rolled out of the way. Blotches of deep red stained the concrete behind him. The kelpie's hooves sent up sparks as he pawed the ground and charged after Hellboy.

One of the orderlies and the doctor huddled near the Jaguar, watching the fight as though they couldn't turn away. Hellboy didn't see the orderly with the broken nose or John, he could only hope that the kid wasn't planning to do something stupid, like jump in the middle of the fight.

Waiting until the kelpie was close enough to take a snap at his shoulder, Hellboy whirled and slammed his stone fist into the creature's head. The horse reeled and Chloe had to grip his mane with both hands to stay on. As it stumbled, the kelpie turned away from Hellboy as though it was retreating, but kicked Hellboy in the middle of his stomach with both back feet.

The blow knocked the wind out of Hellboy, sending him flying across the bureau's steps. He landed on the Jaguar. The car exploded with fragments of glass and plastic, sending the medical professionals scurrying for better cover. Hellboy took in a gasp of air and reached to probe his stomach gently with two fingers. He felt like his insides had been liquefied, which was possible with as much force as the kelpie had delivered.

"Damn," Hellboy groaned while he climbed out of the bent mess of metal.

Mildly surprised that Dr. Flemming wasn't having a complete freak out over his Jaguar, Hellboy grabbed a piece of the car's frame and wrenched it free. Hellboy brandished the makeshift weapon and shouted, "Come on!"

Chloe stayed where she was. Her wings lifted and stretched, spreading the spines out into overlapping arcs that covered every inch of the surface. Her eyes clouded with darkness, and so did the sky. She pulled her father's skull over her face, covering a wicked smile.

Thunder boomed overhead and thick, roiling clouds enveloped the sky. Lightning danced across the surface of the clouds, flashing to earth every few seconds. The wind came out of nowhere and tore through the parking lots hard enough to shake the cars. Several alarms went off, the cars' lights flashing like fireflies in the gathering darkness.

The kelpie whickered nervously and Chloe stilled him with a soft touch to his neck. Not waiting for Chloe to pull out the rest of her tricks, Hellboy attacked. His rent piece of car frame clashed against her sword, both pieces of metal singing a very old ballad of war and bloodshed. They exchanged blows back and forth. Being on the kelpie gave Chloe the advantage, leaving Hellboy on the defensive as he tried to deflect numerous attacks from landing on his head.

A streak of lightning struck one of the cars in the parking lot, tossing the suburban into the air like a matchbox car. It landed on a little hybrid Ford that pancaked under its weight. Before Hellboy could even try and figure out who they belonged to, another bolt came down in the circle drive, close enough that Hellboy could feel the heat. It left a massive, smoking crater in its wake.

Chloe squeezed the kelpie's sides with her legs and the animal cantered away. The hair on the back of Hellboy's neck stood on end as the air around him took on an electric charge. With a shout, Hellboy dove out of the way. The next strike hit within a foot of him, sending cement shrapnel flying in every direction. The pieces pelted him like oversized BBs.

Hellboy grabbed one of the loose chunks and threw it at Chloe, but she knocked it away with one of her wings. He ran at her and another bolt of electricity slammed into the ground in front of him. Suddenly feeling like he was a duck caught in a blind, Hellboy felt the first hint of panic clenching his insides.

While Chloe chased him around with her storm, she put away the knight's sword and drew an elaborate, black wood bow off her back. She notched an arrow and let it fly. It whistled past Hellboy's ear, drawing a line of blood from the shell.

"That's not fucking fair!" Hellboy growled.

He groped blindly in his utility belt, searching for anything he could use against the Shade princess. Trinkets of a dozen different religions fell to the ground. Hellboy ducked another arrow and walked straight into the next lightning strike. His muscles seized, pain crackling through every nerve ending. It only went on for a split second, but it felt as though he was holding onto a live wire for almost an hour. He thought he screamed.

When it stopped, he was laying on his back on the cement, staring up at the storm. His flesh steamed in the cold Connecticut air. Hellboy coughed and rolled onto his side. With as badly as his muscles were shaking, he was a little surprised he was able to sit up. Chloe already had another arrow notched, aimed at his chest.

Suddenly, the kelpie buckled underneath her with a ragged scream, pitching Chloe to the ground. A thick, blue-green liquid oozed from the animal's eyes and nose as the massive creature convulsed in its death throes. Hellboy looked for John. The kid was standing on the sidewall that flanked the bureau's stairs, one hand extended towards Chloe. Before he could finish her off the same way he killed her mount, she notched an arrow and let it fly. Hellboy shouted, but the arrow struck the kid. John's face lit up with pain and he stumbled backwards off the rail, falling out of sight into the bushes.

"John!" Hellboy scrambled to his feet. "John!"

An arrow sunk into his shoulder. He ripped it out and stalked towards the Fay princess with destruction glowing from his yellow eyes. His growl was inhuman and low, his breath misting and drifting around his head like smoke. His stone fingers cracked as he curled them into a tight fist. Chloe dropped her bow in favor of her sword, fear flickering across her features.

Agents poured out of the bureau in full gear, guns held at the ready. Kate led them. Hellboy should've been relieved to have backup, but all he knew was fury. He roared when they took his kill, not flinching as the hailstorm of bullets flung Chloe's blood onto his face and chest. The Fay princess fell in tatters, her eyes fading to forest green before she made it to the ground. Above them, the storm cleared, blown away as quickly as it had formed.

Kate raised her good arm into the air, "Cease fire!"

The bureau's grounds fell into a dead silence. Dozens of agents watched Hellboy from the steps, all agents he'd worked with on one mission or another, their faces drawn with uncertainty. He stayed where he was, watching the red pool spread around Chloe's body. She'd managed to land on her back, with one hand crossed serenely over her stomach. Her father's skull lay in two pieces on the ground by her head. The blood pool touched the edge of the bone and tried to crawl up the sides in tendrils. Hellboy kicked it away.

"Hellboy?"

He didn't realize Kate had come down to him and was startled to find her right at his elbow. Her concern pushed the last of his fury away. When it faded, he remembered why he was so mad.

"John!" Hellboy shouted.

He ran to the edge of the stairs and leapt over the sidewall, shoving at the bushes frantically. The boy was nowhere to be seen, but, half buried in the mulch, was Chloe's arrow. Hellboy knelt to pick it up. Near the entrance to the bureau, he could hear Manning asking for a report. An agent Hellboy recognized as a telepath named Peter started listing off events, but another voice cut in. Hellboy had to lift his head to place it as the doctor.

"Richter is gone. Do you have any conceivable idea how long it took us to find that boy in the first place?"

Manning's response was tight and angry, "If my memory serves, you only found him because I called you."

As they argued, Hellboy gently fingered the tip of the arrow. They would search the hospitals, but Hellboy doubted he would be there. John would rather face death than go back to the psych ward, he'd proven that already. Hellboy stood and looked towards the woods that surrounded the BPRD headquarters, wondering who the kid would become this time.

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The casino in Baton Rouge was packed with bodies. Out in the slots room, young and old mingled amidst the brightly colored machines. The melodic tones of jackpots periodically cut through the crowd noise, followed by an excited crow from the winner. Other players would look up from their own spinning wheels to see who the lucky bastard was and then push a few more quarters into their machines.

A few men huddled in the sports bar, watching games they had money on. They kept their eyes glued to the flat screen televisions with such dedicated attention that they didn't notice that their beers were flat and their food was subpar. Touchdowns brought feral cries of victory from some and shouted curses from others. When the bar doors were closed, neither could be heard in the rest of the casino.

Waitresses and pit bosses moved through the crowds with practiced ease, tending to customers and watching the floor with keen eyes. Where the faded, high weave carpet ended and black, plush rugs covered hardwood flooring, the poker tables hunched in a group of three. The Texas Hold Em table in the center had a crowd clustered around it. Cards for four competitors and a pile of chips occupied the green felt surface, most of the multi-colored disks stacked in front of a young man with spiked blonde hair and expensive sunglasses. He slouched in the chair as casually as though he was watching TV at home, a slight smile curling his lips as the dealer turned over the river card.

Starting with the man who'd bet first, they turned over their hands, leaving the blonde for last. When he tossed his cards on the table, the crowd let out a gasp and began clapping. One of the players grumbled and shoved away from the table, grabbing up his last few chips before stomping off. The lithe youth leaned forward to scrape his winnings closer to himself. He stacked the chips meticulously as the dealer started the next hand.

As the blonde sat back in his chair, his eyes fell closed and he rubbed lightly on his shoulder through the fabric of his button-down. He felt the demon's presence enter the room and smirked, letting his hand drop to the table to finger the corners of his cards. The cards were low, but he wouldn't fold until he saw the flop.

Hellboy slid easily through the crowd since they parted before him with quiet sounds of astonishment. He took the seat next to the blonde and set a few hundred-dollar bills on the table. The dealer took them and gave back a variety of chips and two cards.

"This is no limit Hold Em, sir," the dealer explained as he burned the top card.

Hellboy nodded and picked up his hand, "Got'cha."

The man at the far side of the table took a long swig of his Long Island ice tea, the third he'd had since he'd sat down, grumbling, "You limit's just what you're willing to lose to this little prick." He motioned at the blonde with a wide gesture that nearly hit the middle-aged woman to his left.

She slapped his hand away with a rattle of her cheap gold bangles and said, "Speak for yourself." Her stack of chips was not as large as the blonde's was, but it was better than the drunkard's motley collection of low-end chips.

The drunk narrowed his eyes at Hellboy like he was trying to see him clearly, pointing one sausage finger at him, "Aren't you Hellboy?"

"Nah, but I get that a lot," Hellboy quipped with a chuckle that the blonde echoed.

The drunk furrowed his brow as he actually tried to process the joke and the rest of the table started placing their bets. They settled into the game, tossing chips and light cracks at each other. Hellboy glanced at the blonde after the fourth card was turned over, letting his gaze linger on the short, gelled tips of hair. It was so light it was almost white, the yellow just a tint that could've been from the spot fluorescents.

Hellboy tossed one of his fifty-dollar chips onto the table to raise the woman's bet and asked, "So, what do they call you?"

The blonde smiled and called his bet, "The winner, mostly."

"That seems a little overconfident, doesn't it?"

A pair of bright blue eyes peered at Hellboy through the sunglasses, throwing him off for a second. His thoughts stumbled and he wondered if he'd found the right man, but when the blonde took off his glasses, he realized the blue was from a pair of contacts.

"Not really," the blonde said and picked up a few chips before letting them drop one at a time back onto the stack. "But, when I'm not here, they call me David Miller."

Hellboy smirked, "And how many David Millers do you think there are in the world?"

"Well over half a million." David folded his hand before the last bet and tossed it back to the dealer, "But there's probably only one you're looking for."

The other players were regarding them with suspicion now. Clearly knowledgeable about what Hellboy did for a living, the drunk kept glancing at David, thinking very seriously about cashing out and running for his car.

David sighed and tucked his sunglasses in the collar of his shirt, "I need to cash out."

"Of course, sir. Would you like an escort?" the dealer asked crisply.

David shook his head, "Just something to carry my chips in."

When he had everything gathered in the black velvet bag the dealer had handed him, David got up from the table with Hellboy on his heels. The crowd let out its breath after they'd left, murmuring nervously. David heard them, but didn't care. He led Hellboy to the elevators and punched the call button, leaning on the wall to wait. He studied the demon but couldn't get any real thoughts from him. The demon was still very good at hiding what he didn't want seen.

David waited until they got on the elevator to ask, "Why are you here?"

The doors slid shut silently and David pressed the button for floor ten.

"Not for the reason you think," Hellboy answered, taking a step towards him. "I did some research on you. Considering that your mother was supposed to be a beacon of good will, you had a lot of childhood accidents."

David looked down and away, his expression going sour, "You sure I wasn't just self-destructive? Dr. Flemming seemed to have you hanging on his every word."

"That doctor was full of shit… but you did lie to me."

There was no sound in the elevator except the smooth tones of a big band song emitting from the speakers. David let his bag of chips swing slowly against the wood paneling on the wall, the steady thump matching the beat of the music. Hellboy's tail lashed the air lazily, giving away his mood even though he hid his mind. The elevator eased to a stop and pinged, the doors sliding open onto a floor of suites.

The lush carpet deadened their footsteps. Though the hallway was empty of guests, they maintained their silence until David stopped at a room door and slid his card key into the reader. The streamline silver device let out a soft tone and a click as the lock disengaged. David stepped inside.

Hellboy followed, but stayed near the door. David's suite was large and comfortable. There was a living room with a plush red couch and matching side chair, both facing a large flat screen television. A marble-topped bar sat cattycorner to the balcony doors and there was an unopened bottle of wine sitting on the surface with a lone goblet. Hellboy guessed that the door beside the TV led to the bedroom and bathroom where David had disappeared.

"I'm not here to take you back to Dr. Flemming's circus," Hellboy reassured him in a voice he hoped carried into the bathroom.

David came back into the living room with brown eyes that he fixed on Hellboy, "And yet you hide what you're thinking. I'm smart enough to know that doesn't bode well for me."

"Didn't want to ruin the surprise," Hellboy responded with a smile. "See, when I was doing research, I was also reporting everything to Manning. He's seen enough evidence that he wants to extend another offer for you to join the BPRD, not as John or David, but as Thaddeus. He's convinced the state of Arkansas to drop the case against you."

Thaddeus sat down on the couch, curling one leg underneath him, and ran a hand through his gelled hair. It lost some of its shape, the spikes drooping or coming loose into individual strands again. "And what if I don't want to be an agent? Is the case still going to get dropped?"

Hellboy's disappointment was obvious in the way his shoulders slumped and his tail curled, but Thaddeus felt it too, "Of course. There wasn't a stipulation saying that you had to come back to the bureau."

"Good."

Hellboy nodded and then nodded again, reaching for the doorknob. His mouth twisted into a slight scowl. "You know, I get it. You can pull down a lot of cash doing something like this and hell, these are way nicer digs than the bureau usually gets us when we go out of town, but I thought you said that working with the BPRD made sense to you. I thought you liked it."

There was more that Thaddeus wanted to hear. He wanted the demon to tell him why he'd dedicated months to researching his past and months on top of that searching for Thaddeus after he'd assumed another identity. He wanted to know that Hellboy could accept what he'd done.

"I did like it and it's definitely a good fit for me."

"Then why…" Hellboy tossed his human hand into the air, clearly frustrated with him, "Why won't you come back with me?"

Thaddeus unfolded from the couch and crossed the room, "Because you haven't asked me to come back with _you_, you've asked me to come back to the bureau."

"What's the difference?"

"I want to know that you want me to come back, not Manning."

A smile spread across Hellboy's face like warm honey. He wrapped his arms around Thaddeus's waist and pulled him tight, leaning in to claim his mouth in a hungry kiss. Thaddeus melted against him, his arms going up around the demon's neck. When they finally broke apart, Thaddeus was sharing his smile.

"I want you back," Hellboy purred against his lips.

"Then I guess I should pack my bag."

"No rush."

They kissed, lingering a little longer as their hands roamed and explored. Thaddeus gasped when Hellboy grabbed his ass and lifted him off the ground.

Laughing, Thaddeus mentioned, "You still owe me a date."

As Hellboy carried him into the bedroom, he said, "Yeah, I'll get right on that."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

End

Yay, another fic finished! Though this was much, much shorter than the Somewhere Between trilogy, I hope y'all still enjoyed it! It does have the potential for sequels, but we'll see. I've got no plans for one at this point.


	13. Update for Followers

Quick update.

For those of you interested in my writing, I just finished my first book. _The Void Unit: Shadows on the Wall_ will be available at the end of October (2014). You can find me on Facebook under the pen name Maxwell A. Paris.

Hope to see you there!


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